And Out to the Wilds
by Ankhesen
Summary: What was the bridge crew of the USS Enterprise like when they were teens? Nyota goes to Stellar Valley High School, a boarding school for students who wish to attend later Starfleet Academy. Sequel to "Into the Valley."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Don't own Trek; really wish I did.**

**This is the sequel to Into the Valley which you can read on .com**

**I'll post it on FF eventually.**

**On the Eve….**

**Shi'Kahr City, Vulcan**

"My son seems…anxious to return to your homeworld, my wife."

A tall, slowly graying man, Ambassador Sarek was a vision of grace and elegance in its simplest forms. He wore plain gray robes, and his idea of a luxurious vacation was drinking tea and watching the sunset with his wife. They lounged in the southern courtyard of the ancestral estate. The giant wooden house stood atop a hill, allowing them to view the splendor of Shi'Kahr.

Amanda Grayson smirked knowingly, reaching over to hand him a datapadd. "Have you seen his girlfriend? _This_ is Nyota Uhura."

There was a strange pause from the old man. His eyes flicked over the picture before he handed it back to her. She watched him in amusement as he mulled over his next words.

"I see," he said finally. "That would explain his…anticipation."

Amanda chuckled softly. "Indeed, she is a wonderful girl. They write each other every day."

"What will happen with T'Pring?" Sarek asked. "What happens when the time comes for him to fulfill his bond?"

"Should I hand you this girl's picture again, my husband?" Amanda raised an eyebrow. "T'Pring will not be an issue. If he decides to stay with Nyota, and then that's what it shall be."

Her face was gently smiling, but a subtle tone in her voice indicated the topic was not up for discussion. Unlike Sarek, Amanda's logic was always certain when it came to her son's happiness.

"Now," Amanda went on, when her husband wisely didn't argue, "we need to be very supportive of our son right now. Combat season begins in two days and it's supposedly the most difficult semester."

Sarek stiffened. "I do not like my son being educated in the ways of violence."

"It's _self-defense_, my husband," she reminded him. "Wanton violence against others is both illogical and immoral, but learning to defend one's self is simply common sense." Pause. "He's been rigorously studying Suus Mahna these past couple of weeks. His instructor informs me that if he maintains this level of discipline, he will very soon become a master."

Amanda always knew when her husband was proud of their son because there was always this subtle look of mild bemusement which would quickly overtake his face.

Even so, Spock still got his stubborn streak from somewhere.

"I would still prefer if he remained here and returned to his old school," the Ambassador stated gingerly. "I sense his emotions far too easily these days, as though he's losing his mental discipline. And the manner in which he's been recently altering his appearance…concerns me."

"It is the nature of adolescents to rebel," Amanda chuckled softly, "whether they are human or Vulcan. Allow him this for now, my husband; when he is older and wiser you can always look back on this time and say, 'I told you so.'"

**Cairo, Egypt, United States of Africa**

"…and you shouldn't go so long without facials, darling; it's unseemly," Bahati Uhura was saying. "If you'd taken better care of your skin at school we wouldn't have had to fly so far north of the Nile. Do you know how hard it is to get a walk-in appointment at decent spa the day before school's about to start?"

For the second time in ten minutes, Nyota wondered how long it would take for her to drown in a mud bath, and just how unpleasant it would feel. Bahati had reserved them a lush, silt bath at the exclusive House of Isis, and now here she was, buried under pounds of dark wet soil, with heavy pads of lotus petals over her eyes. She couldn't see her mother's face, and her mother couldn't see hers, but that didn't help. Nothing short of two shots of whiskey and a phase pistol were going to help.

Only Bahati Uhura could ruin a beautiful trip to the spa. In the background, musky incense burned and soft music played. It was a combination of drums, reed flutes, and the ancient Egyptian bow harp. The silt bath itself was warm and cozy, and yet Nyota found herself desperately wishing for it all to end quickly.

"…you want to keep that face pretty and youthful," the older woman chatted on. "For the love of God, darling, you have weekly access to a holodeck. Remind me to give you a program of the House of Isis before you go, all right? You want to keep that rich Vulcan boy interested in you for a long, long time, hear me? And speaking of which, why I haven't I gotten to meet Spock yet? You've been going out for almost what, three months now? I need to meet this gentleman and learn what his intentions towards my daughter are."

_His intentions, Mother Dearest, would be to ride your daughter like a jackrabbit on steroids, completely forgetting that an actual_ person _is underneath him_.

Nyota bit her bottom lip. Now was not the time for her inner evil voice to start messing with her. She did not want her mother to know about her sex life. As far as the older woman was concerned, Nyota was a still a virgin and planned to remain so for a long time.

Of course, that was half true. Sex with Spock had left her sore, bleeding, and not looking forward to doing it again. Vira's reports of her time with Hikaru were the same, and just about every other girl at Stellar Valley who was having sex. Some tried to tell her it would get better with time, but they weren't dating Vulcans. They weren't at the risk of their boyfriends accidentally shattering every bone in their body.

She knew what he was expecting when school started tomorrow. He would want to pick up right where they'd left off. To him, it would be the most 'logical' course of action. He would be eager and excited and unwilling to take no for an answer.

So exactly how the hell was she supposed to explain her wanting to shelve sex for the next couple of years?

"…and darling," Bahati cut into her thoughts suddenly, "exactly what is with the purple hair? How does your Vulcan boyfriend feeling about dating a girl with purple? Surely by now he's brought how illogical it must be to dye your hair such an unnatural color…."

**Kiloris Spacedock, Trill**

"…and I realize you don't like me going to school so far away," Vira Zwan told her mother, as they hurried to board the _USS Mayweather_, "but Stellar Valley's curriculum is challenging and I _finally_ have a roommate who likes me. When have I ever killed _those_ two birds with one stone?"

"I'm not disagreeing with you dear," Dr. Lenara Zwan replied diplomatically, "but you could have those things closer to home."

"We _tried_ that, Mother," Vira bit out, briefly scratching her head of long, twisted purple locks. "How many schools do I have to be kicked out of before you understand that Stellar Valley is simply where I need to be right now?"

"And your eagerness to return to Earth has nothing to do with that human boyfriend of yours?" Lenara asked pointedly. "You know, the one you talk to every day but don't tell me about?"

"Hikaru is awesome," Vira nodded, "but he's not _everything_ to me. I still want to attend Starfleet Academy. I still want to be a doctor. I even still want to be joined some day. And when I go from being _one_ person in one body to _several_ people in one body, there's a very good chance it might freak him out and make him want to break up—which I _will_ understand."

Lenara seemed relieved to hear this; the one thing her daughter really had going for her was all that ambition, and she didn't want to see it dim and fade because of a boy. Not to mention, a _human_ boy who could never possibly understand the complexity of being a joined Trill.

"You will write me every week, then?" Lenara asked her daughter, as Vira handed her luggage to an attendant and joined a line of passengers boarding the _Mayweather_.

"Yes, Mother."

"And you'll take time out of punching and kicking and blowing up ships to attend Dr. T'Pera's advanced seminar on exobiology?"

"Wouldn't miss it for all the universe, Mother."

"And you'll refrain from engaging in _any_ physical relations with that boyfriend of yours?" Lenara called, causing several heads to turn her way.

"_Goodbye_, Mother!" Vira yelled, right before getting on the ship. She sighed wearily as she found herself and wearily fell into, next to a fellow Trill female. The woman was in her twenties, with long purplish black hair she wore down, and dark, rich caramel brown skin. She wore the rarely seen all black Starfleet uniform, and it was somber and severe as her facial expression.

"Greetings," Vira murmured softly. "I'm, uh, Vira Zwan. You?"

"Lieutenant Kemora Tahr," the woman nodded politely. She looked at Vira's uniform, raising an eyebrow at the white blouse over a purple and black plaid skirt. "You're a student on Earth, I take it?"

Vira nodded cheerfully. "I'm a sophomore at Stellar Valley High School."

"You plan to attend Starfleet Academy?"

"Yep," Vira nodded again. "My specialty is xenobiology."

"My specialty is military tactics," Kemora said mildly. "I'm a junior instructor at Starfleet Academy."

Vira's eyes glowed. "You have to tell me _all_ about it."

**Osaka Transporter Center, Japan**

_Transportation Day, _Hikaru Sulu thought grimly, as he handed his luggage to an attendant. Now was no time to relax. One had to be alert on Transportation and avoid catching a stray one.

"Hey Sulu, nice hair!" Hikaru twitched. _So, it has begun_. "They do tie-dyed swirlies at your new school or what?"

Hikaru was prepared. He spent all day yesterday prepping for this. "Blow me, Hiroyuki!"

"Nah man, that's your _mom's_ job!"

"Yeah, well _your_ mom's so fat her soup bowl's got its own lifeguard!" Hikaru snapped over his shoulder.

It was a sort of ritual every semester; kids heading off to their myriad schools filed into transport centers hurling vulgar barbs while horrified adults looked on, no doubt wondering what the galaxy was coming to. Hikaru was suddenly thankful none of his relatives had insisted on seeing him off, otherwise he knew his sister would suddenly pay him another "visit" at Stellar Valley.

"Funny _you_ should talk," came the quick reply, "'cause last I heard your mom's ass was so wide it had its own satellites in orbit!"

"Oh, blow me, dickwad," Hikaru snapped, stepping onto his transporter pad and quickly typing in his destination. "No, wait—that's _your_ mom's job. But don't worry; I'll make sure to give her a fat tip next time she goes down. After all, _someone's_ going to have support you when you're forty-five and can't even get a job working waste extraction in a prison colony."

Hiroyuki Masuda started to reply, but he was too late; Hikaru's transporter activated and with the raising of two fingers, he had last the word.

**Reunion**

Nyota collapsed on her dorm room bed, grateful for the purple covers, the purple rug, the eyes of Vira's old-ass Trills staring at from her wall posters. She could smell her desert and flower perfume still on her pillows. It made her think of her Vulcan, no doubt currently en route, eager to reunite with her. Even as she missed him, she felt pangs of anxiety.

_Where the hell is Vira?_ She needed her know-it-all roommate to hurry up and get here. She needed advice on how to talk her way out of sex with Spock. And if anyone could effectively talk their way out of sex with Spock, it was Vira Zwan.

How would he react, though? Would he get upset, or at least, the Vulcan equivalent of upset? Would he want to break up? In his mind, that might be the logical thing to do.

Nyota sighed wearily, grateful she had some time before his arrival. At least she'd have a moment to figure something out.

The door beeped suddenly, causing her to jump. She slid off her bed, prepared to tell Hikaru that no, his girlfriend wasn't back yet and by the way…what exactly was the best way to tell a guy you weren't going to be having any more sex with him?

The door slid open, knocking the breath from her lungs. Spock stood before her, or at least, she _thought_ it was Spock. His dark eyes were filled with such blatant raw emotion, and even his jaw was clenched. His smooth, pale olive face was framed with hair much longer than she remembered; it now reached just above his chin, was slightly wavy and—_friggin' God_—streaked with fierce blue highlights. His delicately pointed ears peeked through the dark strands of hair, and each one glittered with a row of silver rings.

Nyota's mouth fell open in shock. _What the _fuck_ happened to him on Vulcan?_

He had on his black uniform as usual, but the wrists were recklessly unbuttoned, his prim blue tie was missing, and the top of his shirt was left open, revealing a peek of smooth skin graced with an elegant silver necklace, the pendant displaying Mount Seleya.

Before Nyota could demand an explanation, he swept forward without warning, pushing her back into her room and letting the door slide shut behind them, as his arms wrapped around her and his mouth bore down on hers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Many Happy Returns**

It took only seconds for Hikaru to arrive on the transport pad at Stellar Valley. He'd never thought he'd miss those starchy white walls and bland gray carpets, but as soon as he caught a glimpse of them, he was hit with an overwhelming wave of emotion.

He turned instinctively to his left, and grinned at once. "Lenny! Lenny friggin' McCoy! How were your holidays?"

"Excruciating," came the yawned reply. Lenny scratched his tousled head of dark hair. "My parents definitely aren't letting back here senior year."

"WTF?" Hikaru exclaimed.

"Well, after that stunt with tincture, my dad put his foot down. He's making go the medical academy in Mississippi." Lenny sighed. "But I guess it'll be alright. I mean, it's just one year. After all, we'll all be at the Academy, right?"

Hikaru grinned. "You know they let cadets room together in fours, right?"

Lenny shuddered. "If you're suggesting I share a room with that cold-hearted, green-blooded, OCD-ridden, draconian bastard roommate of yours, you can forget it. Thanks to his insane idea, my ass got busted."

"Hey, now!" Hikaru laughed. "It's not like he held a nerve pinch to your neck, or anything."

They chuckled for a moment, walking towards the dorms before the mood turned somber.

"You, uh, heard from Jim?" Hikaru asked finally.

"Yeah," Lenny nodded. "We spent some time together last week. We laughed, told jokes, and drank some of my Uncle Eugene's moonshine." He shrugged. "He seemed okay then. He was dying to get back here, though. Apparently, he spent his vacation wrestling his stepdad's newest unbroken stallion. Cracked a bunch of his ribs and everything."

"Computer: Locate student James Kirk of Hodges House," Hikaru called out.

"_Student James Kirk has not arrived at Stellar Valley_."

"Damn it," Lenny sighed. "Computer: Identify possible cause of student James Kirk's delay."

"_The Transport Center in Riverside, Iowa is experiencing center-wide technical difficult_."

Lenny's brow furrowed as he, Hikaru and several other students in the hallway stopped. "Elaborate," he commanded.

"_Twenty primary power couplings were illegally removed from the central relay station_."

The two boys looked at each other in disbelief. Around them, other students indulged some hushed chuckling. "C-Computer," Hikaru choked out, trying not to laugh, "a-are you saying Riverside's Transport Center…got, um, broken into and was, um…like, robbed?"

"_Affirmative_."

Suddenly, no one in earshot could hold it in anymore. All the students in the hallway burst into laughter so loud it was audible two floors up. "Only in Iowa, man," one student laughed, gasping for breath. "Only in Iowa."

"Oh," Hikaru rasped blissfully, wiping away a tear, "oh, I gotta say…it really is good to be back in the Valley."

Nyota didn't mean to kiss Spock back, but it sort of just happened on its own. It was hard not to; he smelled fresh off a Vulcan transport, of desert air and alien flora. Before she knew it, her hands were running through his dark hair, feeling out the bits of sand which had blown into it. Her first instinct was to stop him, ask him if she could wash the sand from his hair, and put it in a little bottle to wear around her neck.

Her second instinct told her he would think she was really, really weird, and dump her on the spot. Nyota gave up the idea at once.

"I've missed you," he murmured softly.

"And I you," she admitted. "You've…changed."

A faint somberness overtook his demeanor. "So my father reminds me every day."

Nyota pulled back. "You two aren't fighting, are you?"

Spock seemed a bit uneasy. "Not exactly. Before returning here, I dissolved my bond with T'Pring. Her family neither objected nor was insulted."

Nyota blinked, confused. "And the problem would be…?"

"The fact that they neither objected nor were insulted," Spock replied grimly. "Despite his claims of impassivity, Nyota, my father is very proud. Vulcans usually are, unfortunately. For them to not even slightly protest deeply wounded his honor."

_So_ that's _where he gets it from!_ Nyota marveled. That's _where the ego comes from!_

So much for Vulcan humility and rationality.

_Do. __**Not**__. Laugh_.

"O…kay," Nyota mumbled slowly, instead. "Is he, um, taking it out on you?"

"Not really," Spock tilted his head to the side, "but he is…disturbed. My mother, on the other hand, is overjoyed. She predicts you and I will have a long and agreeable future."

"Sounds like _my_ mother," Nyota chuckled.

"Which brings me to another issue," Spock continued briskly. "In two weeks' time, my father will be hosting a memorial dinner in Shi'Kahr for Ambassador Mioral. You and your entire family are invited."

Nyota's blood froze, and she didn't hide it well. "O-Oh," she sputtered. "Th-That's nice. Um…uh…I'll, uh…I'll have to run it by my mom and um…well, she really might busy with, uh—"

"There's no need," Spock raised an eyebrow. "At 0900 hours this morning, my parents personally sent them an invitation. At precisely 1324 hours, your mother accepted the invitation. Arrangements have already been made for your transport to Vulcan."

Nyota felt her heart plummet to her feet.

_Oh. Dear. __**God**_.

As if on horrible cue, her personal computer beeped, and she just _knew_ who it was.

Of course, she didn't dare answer it with _him_ standing there.

Spock's lips knowingly twitched upward. "Nyota," he said lowly, "aren't you going to get that?"

At 1930 hours, a late dinner was served in the mess hall. Vira Zwan ran into her roommate there where the girls excitedly hugged and started trading stories at once about their holidays over bowls of Prisellan chicken soup and steaming cups of red leaf tea.

"I got to visit the real Hoobishan Baths," Vira said excitedly. "I snuck out with my cousin Lyra while our parents were out. We drank Maporian ale until we couldn't even walk straight."

"That sounds awesome! I, on the other hand, spent a week at a desert resort in the Sahara," Nyota replied. "My sisters and I got a bunch of henna tattoos and we went to a belly-dancing workshop."

"That sounds fun too," Vira assured her. "Maybe when you and Spock are alone, you could show him your new moves."

"Not a bad idea," Nyota agreed, "but then he'll just want to have sex and I really want to avoid that for now."

The Trill snickered. "It won't get better if you don't _practice_, Ny. Besides, the ancient humans penned the _Kama_-freakin'-_Sutra_. I'm pretty sure if you send him a copy, that brilliant Vulcan mind will commit every single position to memory."

Nyota shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Still, I'm worried. He's really strong, V. Last time…hurt a lot."

Vira pondered this for a moment. "I hate to say it, girl, but you're going to have to speak up. I'm fairly certain he doesn't _want_ to hurt you. He's a Vulcan; maybe they have some sort of self-control techniques for these things."

"Maybe," Nyota sighed. "God…just change the subject. Anything cool happen on your trip?"

"While I was aboard the _Mayweather_," Vira obliged her, "I met a military tactician from Trill—Lt. Kemora Tahr. She's a junior instructor at Starfleet Academy. I convinced her to swing by here and maybe do a workshop or seminar for combat season. She'll be contacting the headmistress tonight."

"Sounds rockin'!" Nyota beamed. "You know, I'm nervous. I start Intro to _Suus Mahna_ on Monday morning, and then after that, I have kickboxing, and after that, I have to start my gym sessions. Did you know sophomores have to complete 200 hours of gym work during combat season?"

"And 100 hours of target practice," Vira nodded. "But don't worry. Scotty's the TA in charge of our phase rifle class on Tuesdays and Thursday, and I hear he's a lot of fun. Besides, when it comes to _Suus Mahna_, isn't your boyfriend some sort of expert?"

"Yes," Nyota nodded. "I suppose he could tutor me on weekends in the holodeck."

The boys joined them then, sans Jim Kirk. Hikaru and Lenny replicated Rigelian Nine-Pea Chowder while Spock quite predictably ordered _plomeek_ soup.

As he sat down next to his girlfriend and started on his soup, his friends noticed just how much he was turning heads this evening. While most of the students looked at him with awe and appreciation, some of the guys just couldn't let his new look slide.

"Hey, Spock! Love new look!" someone called, immediately causing a wave of titters. "Where'd you get that 'do anyway?"

"From your mother's back hair," the Vulcan replied immediately.

All heads—_all_ heads—in the mess hall turned his way, and though even his own friends speechlessly stared at him incredulously, he didn't so much as bat an eyelash. Though there was a bite to his words, his speech did not come out forced or overtly hostile, and after he'd uttered them, he continued speaking as though he'd been talking about the weather. "Pass the salt."

Nyota blinked stupidly. "Salt? For your…_plomeek?_"

"Yes," Spock replied patiently.

"But you…you never…."

"I find it a bit bland this evening," he said simply. "Please pass the salt."

She numbly handed it to him, forgetting her own food while she and everyone else at the table watched him sprinkle it lightly over his soup, stir it thoroughly, taste it delicately, before nodding in approval. "Much more agreeable," he announced.

Silence reigned at the table for a few moments when suddenly, an unfamiliar and very young voice interrupted them.

"Pardon me," came the thick Russian accent, "but iz one of you Wira Zwan?"

The Trill's head pricked up at once to gaze up a youthful, pale-skinned student with curly green hair that matched his uniform tie.

"I'm Vira," she replied. "You are?"

"Pawel Andrewich Chekow," he grinned brightly. "Nephew to Professor Wladimir. He say you will be my guide ziz zememster."

"Wait a minute, kid," Lenny interrupted at once. "How old are you?"

"Zirteen," he grinned again, blue eyes sparkling with pride. "I am ze youngest sophomore ewer to attend Stellar Walley."

"Dear God," Lenny blinked.

"My diziplines are pheesics, mazematics, warp zeory," the boy listed proudly.

"Dear God," Hikaru blinked.

"I am also wersed in quantoom mechaneecs," Pavel continued.

"Dear God," Vira blinked.

"And I can calcoolate pi to one hundred feefty-eight places," the child smiled, causing Spock's head to snap his way.

"Dear God," the whole table chorused. Vira scrambled awkwardly to her feet and came to stand next to him. Though only thirteen, he was already taller than she was.

"If you will," he asked politely, blushing as she came near, "please escort me to my classrooms?" He offered her arms, which she awkwardly accepted.

"Okay," she nodded. "Um, let me you show your science classes first. Do you know who all your professors are?"

"By the ears of Surak," Spock murmured when the two left. "A student who's smarter than Vira."

"And prouder," Hikaru nodded.

"And younger," Lenny snorted.

"And thankfully," Nyota raised eyebrow, "_isn't_ rooming with _me_."

Everyone but Spock laughed before they suddenly hushed. James Kirk had suddenly entered mess hall, still dressed in jeans and sweatshirt and carrying his luggage. In silent awe they watched him thread through the quiet tables of the mess hall, giving polite nods of greeting to his classmates. When he reached their table, he immediately took a seat and smiled brightly as his friends.

"Yes, gentlemen and _very_ fine lady," he greeted cheerfully, "rumors of my demise have greatly exaggerated."

A/N: I know everyone's waiting for the big reveal as to why Spock changed his look. Here's a little trivia. When I first started thinking of _Into the Valley_, my premise was this: if the bridge crew of the Enterprise were teens in high school, which teen stereotype would they fit? Kirk would obviously be the guy who slept with everyone. McCoy, a future med student, would naturally be interested in getting high. Sulu, a future pilot, would be the guy with the car. Uhura would be the popular girl simply because she was liked by everyone. Chekov would be the nerd. Scotty would be the kid who started drinking early. And Spock, the angry mixed kid, had "tortured, brooding Goth" written all over him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Bolaria IX, an Interlude**

_(For those of you who remain loyal to N'Tal)_

**The Kiela Estate, Ch'Tau City**

N'Tal didn't like Netris.

She didn't trust that smug, self-assured Subcommander as far as she could throw him. He was condescending, constantly bemused, and chuckled far too openly in her presence.

And these days, N'Tal had _no_ sense of humor.

"…Sarek is hosting a memorial for your father in two weeks time," Netris was saying, as he sipped his regular morning cup of Bolarian coffee and leisurely pored over the daily reports. "It will take place in Sh'Kahr." He snickered. "Perhaps the old Vulcan fears returning to Bolaria IX. He probably worries that _this_ time, the assassins won't miss."

"They would never be stupid enough to target a Vulcan _ambassador_," N'Tal snapped, her patience long worn thin.

"Not true," Netris drawled. "There are several factions within the military wouldn't mind mounting his head on the bridge of their ships. For such a great man, he's not very well liked on the homeworld." Pause. "Much like your father, eh?"

N'Tal rolled her eyes. "Do you have it?"

Netris sighed dramatically and shoved a datapadd across his desk towards her. He seemed too much at home here, in her father's house, sprawled out comfortably in her father's study.

"Your new identity," he yawned. "Falsified records planted through out the central Romulan database. Congratulations, N'Tal; you are now—"

"How many people know about this?" she cut him off. "Who all knows I am here?"

"Just me," he assured her. "I'm not stupid. If I had told anyone, there's a good chance we'd both be dead by now."

"Are you certain? Are you sure you didn't slip up and blab to one of your comrades?"

"_You're_ the one who traveled all the way here from Earth," Netris snorted. "We should be more concerned with your slip-ups."

"I posed as a _Vulcan_ student named T'Korian and I traveled aboard a _Ferengi_ transport," N'Tal hissed. "No one recognized me. Everyone thinks I'm _dead_, remember?"

"True," Netris raised an eyebrow, "but we can't be certain."

"I will ask only once more, Netris—who knows?"

"_No one_, girl!" he barked at her. "_I_ didn't even know until you showed up here in the middle of the night without warning! I didn't believe you even _were_ N'Tal!"

"So you're the only one?" she asked once more.

"The. Only. One," he sighed wearily. "Just us two." His confirmation sealed his fate.

The blade came seemingly from nowhere. She wielded it across the desk in a single strike, taking off his head.

Grimly, N'Tal gazed at Netris's fallen headless body, briefly thinking of how unfortunate his death was—but only briefly.

"And now it's just one," she murmured.

2


	4. Chapter 4

**Lenny's Day**

Lenny McCoy didn't figure himself a spiritual man. He didn't go to church nearly as often as his parents' would've liked, and the only time he ever prayed was…well, never. Nevertheless, every now and again, Lenny felt the universe was giving him signs.

As he lay in bed very late that Saturday night, he found it much easier to fall asleep now that Jim was safe and not suicidal in the bed opposite his. He'd been deeply worried about his friend these past weeks, and had wondered if the boy would be scarred for life. Would he ever get close to another woman? Or would he become one of those Starfleet captains who were obsessively married to their ships?

Lenny hoped not, and didn't think so. Kirk had been smiling and laughing all evening, and never once mentioned N'Tal. But around 0400 in the morning, Lenny heard…noises coming from the other bed. They sounded high, bitten back, as though someone were trying very hard not to cry.

Alarmed, Lenny slowly turned to check on his roommate. He'd been afraid of something like…well, not _that_.

Jim Kirk and a girl Lenny recognized to be Janice Band or Rand or something other from Buskirk House were completely naked on top of his dark red coverlet. Janice was on all fours, with much of her long blond hair in her face while Jim was on his knees behind her, gripping her hips and working away rhythmically, as though it were just another beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Lenny gawked at his roommate in sheer disgust, amazed and unbelieving of what he was seeing. When Jim caught him looking, the sandy-haired boy from Iowa actually had the audacity to wink at him.

Lenny rolled over and buried his head under both of his pillows. He hoped Hikaru would have some Andorian dream leaf handy tomorrow, because he was seriously going to need brain cells killed after this.

* * *

On his way to breakfast, Lenny swung by Spock and Hikaru's dorm. He didn't need to wait to enter; the boys had already exchanged codes to enter one another's dorms. Of course, today, Lenny suddenly wished they hadn't.

Spock was nowhere to be found, which was good because Lenny seriously doubted the Vulcan would appreciate his roommate getting naked on his bed with the Trill who'd shown him up repeatedly in public. No, Spock most certainly would not enjoy the site of Hikaru kneeling on his bed with Vira's legs wrapped around his waist. The groaning, gasping, and bed creaking didn't help either.

Lenny whirled around at once and exited the dorm. For a split second, he was actually paranoid to go anywhere or look up at anyone. He tried to tell himself that the holidays were over and everyone just missed one another, hence the insatiable hormone-fest. However, that didn't stop him from wondering if the universe was trying to give him a sign.

"Computer: Locate student Spock of Laidley House."

"_Student Spock is in holodeck thirteen_."

"Is he alone?"

"_Negative. Student Nyota Uhura of Buskirk House is with him_."

_Well…_I_ sure as hell ain't gonna risk it_, Lenny raised an eyebrow. He headed towards the turbolift. _Breakfast…I just need some breakfast_.

"_Leonard McCoy, report to the Central Office. Repeat: Leonard McCoy, report to the Central Office_."

Lenny sighed loudly and wearily. _Haven't even had my coffee yet…_.

* * *

…**meanwhile, on Holodeck 13….**

Nyota and Spock stood in an empty Vulcan temple. The rooms were spacious, the floors were of polished wood, and the windows were shuttered. However, breezes still managed to blow through, tossing the sheer pale gray curtains. Various statues were set into the walls, their stony faces representing the pinnacle of Vulcan impassivity. The air smelled richly of replicated incense, and despite the somber tranquility of the setting, Nyota's heart pounded.

Spock sensed her anxiety, and quickly explained, "_Suus Mahna_ is not about defeating your opponent, and certainly not killing them. You use the movements to humanely neutralize your attacker. Understand?"

She nodded quickly.

"I've designed this program for you," Spock continued. "It's similar to the course you'll be taking this semester, but your instructor was designed specially for you and she will give you cultural and historical background as well. Any questions?"

"What happened to you on Vulcan?"

There was a subtle twitch of his body at her sudden inquiry, and she immediately regretted her words. _Actually, I had a lead-in to that…_.

"I do not understand your query," he replies stiffly.

"You've changed," she said cautiously, "a lot."

"Long hair is not uncommon amongst Vulcans," Spock said with faintest touch of bitterness to his words. "And wearing one's house colors in their hair is a custom at this school. As humans say, 'When in Rome….'"

"And your ears?" she asked.

"Many species practice ear-piercing," he said tightly.

"But not Vulcans," she pointed out. "Such a practice would be illogical as it serves no productive purpose."

"It is aesthetically pleasing," he countered. "Humans value that is which is aesthetically pleasing."

Nyota's eyes widened incredulously. "Are you saying that part of this is about me? You did some of this…for me?"

"You have learned my language and parts of my culture, history, and literature. You have developed a high respect and admiration for my ancestors," he shrugged simply. "Shall I not honor yours as well? Did the ancient peoples of your continent not pierce themselves thusly?"

"Well, yes but—"

"Then just I have respected your decision to immerse yourself in my world, I trust you will respect my desire to immerse myself in yours." Pause. "Do you think your father will be able to attend my father's memorial dinner as well as your mother?"

* * *

…**and back to Lenny….**

The Central Office was not a fearsome place; however, not everyone wanted to end up there. Staff usually issued assignments to students there, assignments that weren't sought, such as showing around a new kid. And sure enough, one of the administrators was waiting next to an unfamiliar—and stunningly beautiful—face.

The girl had already dyed all of her hair purple and was wearing matching contacts and her school uniform. When she spoke, her Louisiana* drawl rang clear.

"Hi!" she grinned at him. "My name's Christine. Christine Chapel."

"Lenny McCoy," he blinked, dumbfound by her clear, radiant skin and warm, friendly demeanor. "You're starting at Stellar Valley, I presume?"

"Oh, just for the semester," she chuckled. "Senior year I'm going back to in Mississippi."

Lenny's heart skipped. "And you'll be studying…?"

"Xenobiology," she glowed. "I'm wantin' a nursin' degree. Hear tell you're tryin' to be a doctor, huh?"

"That's right," he nodded. "My senior year will be in Mississippi too." _And suddenly, I'm actually looking forward to it…_.

"It's a good school," she assured him excitedly. "It ain't as shiny and hi-tech as this one, but it's old, and it's a beauty."

_As are you_, Lenny raised an eyebrow. "Would you like to me to show you classes now?"

* * *

…**over in Spock and Hikaru's room….**

Vira lay wide-eyed next to her boyfriend, their sweat still dripping and their breath still coming fast.

_That was…__**astounding**_.

Where had _those_ moves come from? Had Hikaru been practicing or something over the vacation?

He spoke first. "That awesome."

"Yes, it was," she agreed immediately. "No pain, no awkwardness, no roommate bursting an interrupting—"

The door flew open suddenly and Spock entered, stopping very quickly when he saw two completely naked bodies on his bed.

Vira hugged her chest to cover her breasts while Hikaru sat up at once, dragging the covers across his lap. And while the Vulcan shuddered at the thought of _his_ blanket touching his roommate's privates, he was nevertheless forgiving. After all, had he and Nyota not done something similar?

"I-I can explain," Hikaru stammered.

"Do not," Spock replied severely. "It is irrelevant. I will leave you both to dress." He turned to go, but stopped. "I trust you will launder my bedding _immediately_ after you dress?"

"Immediately," the guilty lovers chorused. Spock nodded and left them, but even as he did, he remained troubled.

Those two were…_glowing_ after sex. Both were pleasured and sated and functioning comfortably in each other's presence. It was completely different from his experience with Nyota. She'd been stiff and tense and distraught, but she had assured him the next time would be different.

And yet, she had made no effort to create a "next time." When they kissed, she made sure it was short, and whenever Spock tried to extend the moment, she always had "something to do." First, she had dismissed him yesterday afternoon, when her mother called, refusing to let the two even greet each other. After dinner, she gave him a brief kiss good night in the mess hall, before fleeing back to her dorm. Then just now, in the holodeck, when he tried to take her into his arms, she sputtered and pulled away, saying she wanted to start her _Suus Mahna_ lessons right away. When he tried to stay and watched, she shooed him away again.

He had hurt her. He had frightened her. He had told her the truth about the Time, and now she was probably worried she might trigger it or something.

He had tried to look more human, less harmless, less…_alien_, but it wasn't working. He would always be stronger. He would always be at risk for losing control.

And meditation, contrary to what his roommate would suggest, was not the answer. In times past, Spock had tried that. Meditation not only quelled emotions, but physical desire as well. If he meditated the way he needed to stay in complete control, it would hinder his sex drive as well.

_Perhaps my people are just not supposed to mate outside the Time_, the Vulcan thought bitterly. _We don't get to have that pleasure. We don't get to be free like that, because the last time we indulged our passions, it nearly brought about our extinction_. He twitched irritably. _Even our Romulan kin had to become socially restrictive to tame their passions_.

He suddenly remembered N'Tal, remembered whispers of her stabbed corpse, and the aching haunt of her poetry. The memory plagued with him irrational pangs of guilt.

_Now would be a great time for my girlfriend to hold me_.

* * *

…**and back to Lenny, or rather, **_**watching**_** Lenny….**

"Check out Dirty South over there," Jim Kirk mused over brunch. Lenny and the new girl were sitting at a separate table, excitedly talking to each other while their food got cold. "She can play the sweet role of a shy southern belle all she wants, but I recognize a ride-or-die chick when I see one."

Nyota snorted, sprinkling salt over her scrambled eggs. "She's a Buskirk girl, Jim; we're the _nice_ ones, remember?"

"Nice girls my ass, Ny," Jim snickered. "When you thought my ex was trying to get your man in sack, you were two seconds away from cuttin' a bitch." He turned to Vira. "And how many times did you slap your main man over here to get his attention?"

"You _told_ me to!" Vira cried, appalled he would bring that up.

Hikaru glared at his friend. "_You_ told her to hit me?"

"You must admit, my friend," Spock interjected calmly, "you were in desperate need of a…'wake-up call.' All attempts to appeal to your rationality were futile."

His roommate scowled at him. "You do not amuse."

"Nor did you," the Vulcan raised an eyebrow. "You followed N'Tal around as though she had your dick on a string, and before long, even _I_ felt embarrassed for you." Pause. "I had thought I raised you better than that, Hikaru."

Never had that much orange juice come out of _that_ many noses at the same time. Even Hikaru had to laugh at his roommate's words, while Jim Kirk clapped the Vulcan on his back, gasping, "Score two for the Vulcan."

**A/N:** *I read about Chapel online, and found out she was a New Orleans girl (which I had _not_ expected). So I gave her the drawl.


	5. Chapter 5

**Ride…Or Die**

"So, Christine," Vira greeted the new girl over lunch the next day, setting her tray down on the table and grabbing a seat, "who they roomin' ya with?"

"Some designer human named 'Number One'; can you believe that?" Christine snorted. "Girl's practically an android. She's totally Laidley material, but they dropped her off in Buskirk in hopes she'd get more in touch with her maternal side. And the creepiest part," she whispered, "is that she kinda looks like me, _non?_""

"Oh," Vira shook her head, "don't worry about her. I've met Number One and once you get past the cold, nerdy exterior, she's quite…." The Trill trailed off for a moment, and then shrugged, "Well, she's weird."

"Yeah, that seems to be going around lately," Nyota sighed, joining them. She smiled at Christine. "How are you liking combat season?"

"Exhausting," the new girl laughed, sipping some iced tea. "But in a totally good way. I started my gym hours this morning. I spent two of 'em in the gym doing spinning and lifting weights. You?"

"_Suus Mahna_," Nyota replied, stuffing her mouth with a Crisaylian BLT.

"That's right, _bébé_," Christine nodded, "you're the one dating the Vulcan."

"Spock's half-human," Vira piped up. She drizzled ranch dressing all over her boneless wings. "Though…we've only started noticing it recently."

"Whew," Christine shook her head. "My uncle's a Vulcan history expert—talk about some bloody, you know? For such a logical, unemotional race their history makes the Klingons look like Sunday schoolchildren. Like, my uncle's favorite story is of Siroyani, the fifteenth son of King Sarot. He used to tell me it all the time."

Nyota raised an eyebrow. "I never heard that one."

"Oh, it's an oldie," Christine winked. "See, Sarot ruled liked _thousands_ of years before the birth of Surak. He had fifteen sons; the first fourteen were all born of his Queen T'Niria, and therefore guaranteed a region to rule after their father's death. But the fifteenth—Siroyani—was bastard-born, and by the Rule of Blood he had no right to rule.

"So in a vengeance, Siroyani started slaughtering his half-brothers and for each brother he killed, he pierced one of his ears with a silver ring, until one day, he had—"

"Seven rings in each ear," Nyota finished for her, suddenly realizing something. Her mind flashed back to her talk with Spock in the holodeck yesterday. "Siroyani…he did this in rebellion against his father, didn't he?"

"Of course," Christine nodded, spearing a piece of strawberry with her fork. "Which is ironic, because King Sarot secretly planned to marry him off to some _fille_ of a wealthy nobleman, which would have allowed him to live in comfort for the rest of his life."

Nyota's hands slammed down on the table. "That…lying…fibbing…_lying_—" She rose from the table suddenly, forgetting both her hunger and her food, and storming out of the mess hall.

_It's the tincture all over again. Telling me one thing, but doing something else. What part of "shit like this doesn't help me trust you" can he_ not _understand? Oh, he's about to hear something from me!_

She wasn't angry per se; after all, this wasn't really about her. However, she didn't take kindly to being lied to. This was all new to Spock, and he was probably acting out unconsciously; after all, rebellion was illogical. However, the boy was half-human, living on the human homeworld surrounded by hormonal, adolescent humans. Contracting crazy via osmosis was kind of inevitable.

And speaking of crazy….

Nyota's jaw hit the floor as she stopped in the hallway which led from the dorms to the classrooms. Spock had a red-haired, freckled Hodges kid—_not_ Kirk—pinned against up against the wall while stunned onlookers gaped speechlessly. There had to be something said for Vulcan strength, because the boy's feet were at least six inches off the ground and Spock was only holding him with _one_ hand _and_ only by his throat.

The Vulcan gritted his teeth—he actually _gritted his teeth_—as he uttered the nastiest thing she'd never thought he could say.

"Listen closely, _human_," came the low, guttural growl, "because I am only going to tell you once. You may not 'dig' having me around, but if things really were entirely up to _me_, _you_ would be just another blowjob dripping from your mother's chin, and not a fully grown, walking, talking _pain in my ass!_"

Nyota's heart stopped beating, even as her mind raced. _Somewhere, Amanda Grayson is having a heart attack and doesn't know why_.

Despite his sealed humiliation, the boy hurled one more barb. "Green-blooded elf," he choked out painfully, struggling in vain against the iron grip.

"Red-blooded primate," came the immediate scathing reply, right before Spock dropped his hostage and stormed down the hall.

Nyota reconsidered going after him, but his roommate didn't hesitate. Hikaru took off after the Vulcan at once, and Nyota said a quick, silent prayer for his well-being.

* * *

"Dude," Hikaru called out to his roommate, increasingly alarmed, "what the hell was that?"

"That creepy gingerhead tried to persuade me to make the _Serengeti_ battle simulation winnable this year." Spock scowled very slightly. "I declined. Quite naturally, he persisted."

"_Dude_…what _happened_ to you on Vulcan?"

Spock abruptly stopped walking and Hikaru followed suit. The Vulcan's human eyes were dark and turbulent as he whirled furiously on his roommate and barked, "Could everyone _please_ stop asking me that?"

Hikaru was too impatient to feel cautious. "Everyone will stop asking once we get some satisfying answers, bro. I mean, can we just stop and rewind to the time _before _you became Evil, Dark and Twisty Vulcan of the Damned?"

"How humorous," Spock snorted, before turning on his heel.

"Whatever it is, bro," Hikaru followed him, "have you considered, I dunno, getting over it?"

"How can I?" the Vulcan snapped. "The students are spoiled. Did you know that everystudent who's signed up for the simulation this semester hasn't once been to the gymnasiums, pools, or any of the dojos? And up until this semester, not a single one of those students volunteered to take a self-defense or tactical course. They are undisciplined, out-of-shape, and overall unprepared. They are going to disgrace themselves during the simulation, and everything I worked for will be a complete waste of time."

"Since when do we need to be in shape to push buttons, Spock?" Hikaru exclaimed.

Spock stopped abruptly again. "Since I designed the simulation to be _fully_ interactive. The bridge can be boarded by holographic enemy soldiers and students will have to defend themselves." He took off again, but this time, his roommate didn't follow.

Instead, he hung back, murmuring to himself in awe, "Talk about unwinnable."

* * *

In what felt like seconds, rumors spread like wildfire, and they weren't being whispered this time.

"Can you _believe_ that pointy-eared nutjob? We can fight off _Klingons!_ We are all going to get friggin' bludgeoned in the first five seconds."

"Are the safeties going to be on? Please tell me the safeties will be on."

"My dad's a lieutenant aboard the _USS Hoshi_. He got punched by a Klingon _once_ and was out for days."

"So the safeties are going to be on, right?"

"This is bull. I have Intro to Starship Functions for the first time _tomorrow_. How the hell will I be able to take a ship through a battle simulation in just a few weeks?"

"So, like…safeties, right?"

Paranoid swept the school like a plague in just a matter of minutes. Even Nyota found herself unable to focus in the gym as she sat on an ab machine and tried to lift weights for the first time in her life. Nearby, her brainy roommate was on a treadclimber going exactly 2.5 miles per hour and not one iota higher. As Nyota tried to lift 20 pounds of hell for only the fifth time, the cold, painful truth about the _Serengeti_ simulation dawned on her.

"We're going to get our asses kicked," she said suddenly out loud. The metallic gray walls of the half-empty gym seemed to close in on her, and she felt panic for the first time since she started at Stellar Valley.

"You just now realized that?" Vira called over her shoulder. Was she already panting? They'd only started working on their gym hours about fifteen minutes ago. Was the Trill really winded?

"How did we get so out of shape?" Nyota cried.

"When the hell were we ever _in_ shape, Ny?"

Nyota sighed. "My uniform _has_ been feeling a little tight lately. Isn't all the food in replicator supposed to be low-fat and vitamin-enriched?"

"Yeah, right," Vira snorted, bravely staying on the treadclimber. "That's why all the ice cream and brownies and casseroles and waffles taste _so_ good. Because they're low-fat and vitamin-enriched."

"You know what this means, right?"

The Trill shrugged slightly. "We should take our names off the _Serengeti_ simulation list?"

"We're going to have to go on a diet."

"_Aw, man!_" Vira wailed. "Are you sure?"

* * *

Lenny McCoy was suddenly feeling deeply inferior.

The whole point of inviting Christine to "spar" with him was to talk, maybe cop a feel or two, talk some more, and then go for ice cream.

The plan, however, did _not_ include getting knocked on his ass within the first few seconds of their session.

Christine chuckled above him, leaning in and offering her hand.

_Talk about being a ride or die chick_, Lenny winced. _Damn, this girl is_ strong! _Wrestle gators in the swamp much?_

"Outta practice, huh?" she laughed.

"Little bit," he lied. Actually, Lenny had never been "in practice" before. He'd spent most of combat season last year in the gym lifting weights. He'd developed some great abs which he'd then quickly lost over the summer.

"Wanna go again?"

"Not really," he said honestly. "It wasn't supposed to go like this." He stretched a little to the right. "I think you pulled a muscle in my side."

Christine laughed again. Her voice was sweet, and slightly husky. It made his body warm. "You are going to get your _ass_ kicked in simulation," she snickered, shaking her head. "I mean, I only plan to be a nurse, but I've been studying hand-to-hand since I was _ten_."

_Which basically means she can break every bone in my body_, Lenny realized. "Um, maybe you should spar with Spock from here on out."

"_Mais non_," she shook her head. "I want _you_, bubby. Strict diet, three rounds on the mat every day, and we can make a soldier outta you, darlin'."

_This is_ so _not how this was supposed to go_. He wanted to be her boyfriend, not her project.

Then again, other guys _were_ checking her out and winking at her. To his horror, Christine winked backed.

"Three rounds a day it is," he nodded immediately. "And strict diet to boot."


	6. Chapter 6

**Of Human Bondage**

Jim Kirk rolled off the lukewarm body of Number One, quickly regretting his decision to bed the stoic senior. Number One hadn't uttered a single noise throughout the entire experience, and it was beyond unnerving.

"So, uh…what's your name?" he asked awkwardly.

"My name is Number One," she replied in that borderline metallic voice of hers.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "You parents named you 'Number One'?"

"No, my people did."

Now he turned to look at her. She had a semi-serene, semi matter-of-fact look on her face which he just couldn't understand. Maybe she really is an android.

"Your…people?"

"On my homeworld, Ilyria*," she nodded slightly. "Of my age-mates, I had the highest intellect. Therefore my name was changed to give me the appropriate title of Number One." She bore a small smile of self-satisfaction, which he found oddly endearing.

"My apologies," he murmured. "I thought you were human."

"I did want to pass as human for as long as possible. I even grew my hair out, which Ilyrians do not usually do. It was my intent to understand your species better."

"Gotcha," Jim nodded.

Her dorm door slid open suddenly, and in came Christine, followed by Lenny. Jim sat up at once, dragging the cover across his lap. Number One, on the other hand, didn't bother to try to hide her nakedness.

"Jim!" Lenny exclaimed. "Jim!"

"Sorry," Jim stumbled to the floor, looking for his clothes. "Really sorry."

Christine raised a cynical eyebrow. "You're that bed-hopper all the girls've been talkin' about, ain't ya?" She shrugged casually, tossing him his pale blue boxers. "And if that's who you are, then there ain't no use apologizin', is there?"

Jim blinked, surprised by her attitude. He looked over her shoulder to Lenny, and his eyes said it all.

_I like_ this _one_.

Lenny's eyes had a response of their own.

_Back off_, they warned. _She's mine_.

* * *

During his trek back towards his own dorm, Jim heard a lot of talk in the halls. It seemed that he while he was busy getting laid, Spock's wrath had plunged the school into the panic. He saw frightened girls heading back to their dorms with bowls of salads from every corner of the Federation. He saw nervous boys in pristine sweatpants and undershirts scurrying off to the gymnasiums. And as he passed one of the primary resource centers, he overheard students requesting additional hand-to-hand combat courses from the staff.

_WTF?_ This was getting ridiculous. Combat season was supposed to be hard, yes, but fun. Like the semesters filled with courses on language and culture, students were supposed to be learning and enjoying what they were learning.

Jim turned down the hallway towards Laidley House. The Vulcan was no doubt in his room, meditating on God-knows-what. And while Jim normally didn't want to interrupt a meditation session (Heaven knew Spock needed one now more than ever), something had to be changed _now_.

He found Spock in his room, just as he'd predicted, and though the Vulcan initially ignored him, Jim cleared his throat loudly and obnoxiously until Spock finally opened his eyes.

"Jim," he began levelly, "shouldn't you be climbing onto some unsuspecting sophomore right about now? Kelly Thompson, perhaps, from your House."

"Nah, bro," Jim shook his head. "Hodges girls tend to be disease-ridden whores."

"Takes one to know one," Spock raised an eyebrow. "After all, you _are_ the only person I know willing to stick his dick in anything with a pulse, even if she only has the IQ of a single-celled lifeform."

"Now what the fuck was _that?_" Jim demanded. "Was that broadside _really_ necessary?"

Spock's lips twitched upwards, but he replied neutrally, "Perhaps not. But you _have_ rudely my meditation session; therefore logic dictates you are fair game."

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Jim scowled. "Walking the fine line between being a Vulcan and a human—you think you can behave emotionally so long as you find a logical way to rationalize it. Well, I'm not buying it, Spock. Something happened to you on Vulcan, and if you want your girlfriend's affection back or for your very few friends to stick by you, you better spill."

The Vulcan actually glared at him and Jim had to work very hard not to smirk in self-satisfaction.

_Finally, I hit a nerve_.

"'Trust not in humans as whole,' my father said to me," Spock said bitterly. "'Good as they are, they will still disappoint you.'"

"Funny," Jim grumbled, "coming from a Vulcan who _married_ one."

"But the humans here _have_ disappointed me," Spock insisted. "I have a girlfriend who wants one thing one moment, and then something else the next. She wants me to touch her, then she cries when I do. I have friends who pull pranks all day and stay intoxicated. Everyone here wants to have a good time and _only_ a good time. They stuff themselves with ice cream and pizza, and sleep until the middle of the day. They're not cut out for Starfleet. I spent tireless, endless hours of my vacation prepping the simulation, making the scenarios as real as possible and no one here is even remotely prepared. And what sickens me the most is that my _father_—Satan himself—was right. He _knew_ you all would disappoint me."

Spock slid off his bed, coming to stand toe to toe with Jim. Already, the Vulcan was quite taller than the Iowan.

"There I was," Spock continued, his repressed wrath devolving into bitter pain "telling him he didn't know what he was talking about. I told him he'd been to Earth and married a human but knew nothing. I told about how I had it better than he, that I had clear moons and green mountains. I described autumn in Appalachia, and its unparalleled beauty." Spock looked away, as though fighting some inner torture. "If the old bastard wasn't Vulcan, he would've laughed at me."

"Spock," Jim sighed, "we may have failed you, but you haven't failed us. Have you been outside this room? You've got everyone dieting and running to the gym. You've got kids requesting extra classes. Don't you see? You've recharged the student population, and reminded them why they're here. And you did it just in matter of _hours_."

Spock looked at him, eyes lighting with hope. "You mean it? They're…trying?"

"More than _trying_," Jim chortled. "All because of you. So to hell with what you're father says, Spock. I know he wants you to follow his way and all, but…isn't it logical for you to find your own?"

"I suppose," the Vulcan nodded slowly. Jim could tell this was another "new" experience for Spock; he had on his "bear with me, I'm still absorbing this" face on and it was deeply endearing.

"And about your girlfriend," Jim shrugged, "well…she's a girl. See, you and I plan to be on a starship bridge come hell or high water. We knew that from the get-go. Nyota… not so much. She knew wanted to meet aliens and learn their languages; doesn't mean she wants to go into potentially hostile situations. She can do this whole Stellar Valley song-and-dance and _still_ not go to Starfleet Academy."

Spock did his slow blink and nod routine, again absorbing the information and mulling it over.

"So this mind-changing thing she does," he began tentatively, "can apply to…any situation?"

"_Especially_ the one you're thinking of," Jim winked. "She's young and she's not sure this is what she wants to do right now. It doesn't reflect negatively on you, if that's what you're wondering. For all we know, the original theory still stands." When the Vulcan raised his eyebrow in query, Jim elaborated, "She might really like girls."

* * *

The next morning, before Nyota was to begin her hundred hours of target practice, she met with Vira, Christine, and Number One over breakfast. The dark-haired Number One really _did_ look a lot like Christine, and she had already mastered many of the Louisianan's mannerisms.

The girls had already gotten their protein shakes and egg-white omelets when Nyota arrived with a tall stack of padds. She dumped onto the table triumphantly and grinned at the girls.

"We are going to kick ass in the simulation," she announced.

"I don't see how," Vira frowned. "Our tactical methodology is going to be insufficient against Vulcan programming."

"I'm with the Trill," Christine nodded. "That damn Vulcan went and bit off more than the rest of us can chew. See, I got to thinkin' last night. We can train all we want but a lot of bridge are gonna get taken out in the first five seconds, and can't no _one_ person run a starship. And ain't none of us here are a match for Klingon physical prowess."

"That's just it!" Nyota exclaimed, sitting down. "This isn't about the physical—it's about the _psychological_. Spock made the simulation _fully_ interactive, remember?"

"Yes," Number One nodded dutifully. "Which is precisely the source of the predicament. Even with safeties on, the _Serengeti_ will be boarded as soon as the ship's shields fail."

"Long gone are the days of just pushin' buttons and takin' orders. We're going to see the Klingons, have to wrastle it out with 'em—"

"—and get to _speak_ to them," Nyota glowed. "In his attempt to make the simulation unwinnable on every level, I think Spock may have included one major flaw."

Target practice turned out to be a breeze, most likely because the girls were psyched by Nyota's plan. They met at 0900 hours in holodeck seven. The room was pitch black, except for the illuminated gray floor, a long silver table lined with rifles, and floating holographic targets.

"Right, lasses," Scotty began. "We're going to start with rifles. They're a wee bit better than pistols and phasers because they come with targeting scanners which prevent you from wasting ammo. Now everyone grab a rifle, we'll stand back to back in a circle, and we'll commence firin' at level one."

Level one was easy as pie. The targets were brightly colored, twelve inches in diameter, and less four meters away. They moved slowly, in a predictable bouncing pattern. On level two, they shrank by half, moved two meters further back, and began to appear and disappear at random intervals. By level four, they were three inches in diameter, all the same gray shade, and bouncing all over the place.

After target practice hours, at 1100 hours, the girls went to Intro to Starship Functions on holodeck seventeen, taught by Professor Mitiku.

She was a tall, dark, lithe woman with a thick Ethiopian accent. She wore her hair long, black and down her back, and the typical gray clothes of a Stellar Valley instructor. She paced the bridge of the holographic ship calmly, a cup of steaming coffee in her hands.

"This is similar to the bridge of the _Serengeti_ simulation," she explained. "On the bridge are the Captain, his First Officer, a Communications Officer, a Helmsman, and a Navigator. Sometimes you will also find a Strategic Operations Officer, a Chief Science Officer, and a Counselor. Every now and again, the Chief Medical Officer may be summoned to the bridge, as he or she is part of the senior staff. Any questions so far?"

The class progressed uneventfully for the next one and half hours; the Professor lectured and demonstrated the various instruments and consoles. At least four time, she had to remind Jim Kirk to get out of the Captain's chair.

After class, Nyota hurried to her room. She needed to change so she could continue with her gym hours. When she'd done her play gray T-shirt and sweats and had pulled back her hair, there was a beep at the door. "Enter," she called absently, searching for her tennis shoes.

In stepped Spock, or at least, whom she thought was Spock. Gone were the rings in his ears and the long hair. The blue streaks, however, stubborn remained.

His tone was very different, far more like his tone from when they'd first met.

He spoke almost shyly, avoiding her eyes as he asked, "Can we talk?"

* * *

_*I read on Memory-Alpha that DC Fontanta said Number One was actually Illyrian, and it seemed cooler than trying to make her human and give her a less interesting name._


	7. Chapter 7

**Rebels**

"So let me get this straight," Nyota blinked, rising from her bed to pace her room. "I've disappointed you? I won't sleep with you, so…I've _disappointed_ you?"

"_Confounded_ me," Spock said hurriedly, "but not disappointed. I understand it's your choice."

"Understand but don't accept," she bit out, still pacing. "I want to wait, and you want it now. Never mind that it's irresponsible, or unnecessary, or _illogical_ even—you want it now. You want it now, you want it from me, and that's what matters."

"Nyota," the Vulcan began hesitantly, rising to his feet but maintaining some distance, "I am willing to…abstain. I am willing to stay in this relationship. I am willing to be loyal to you. But as you have a right to voice your discomfort, it is logical then that I should be allowed to voice my discomfort. This is just one of those areas where we will have to agree to disagree. And that's logical. We would be naïve to think we will always agree on everything."

He came to embrace her, and he seemed so awkwardly innocent when he did so. Nyota stiffly returned his embrace, for she knew he didn't understand. Soon, somehow, word was going to get out that the good-looking Vulcan's girlfriend wasn't putting out. And that's when the vultures would start circling. Spock wasn't even remotely prepared for the tsunami of temptation about to surge his way.

"I accept your boundaries," he said politely pulling away. He seemed…formal, almost Victorian in his movements. When he spoke, his words sounded rehearsed. "I respect your body and will be happy to acquiesce to your wishes."

Nyota's eyes immediately narrowed. "Spock," she began suspiciously, "whom have you been talking to?"

She saw the subtle blush bloom across his face. He had to pause to keep from stuttering. "Jim offered me some insightful advice," he confessed.

Nyota's face smoothed away into impassivity worthy of a Vulcan. "Jim did," she said stoically. "Jim Kirk told you it was all right to respect a girl's boundaries and _not_ talk her into having sex."

"Yes," Spock nodded.

"_James T. Kirk_ advised you to come here and tell me this?"

"Exactly," Spock nodded, once again the dutiful student of his peers. Nyota resisted a powerful bodily twitch. She recalled distinctly telling him not to discuss his relationship with his friends, but it was no use reminding him now. He wanted sex and she was denying him, and in doing so she had placed the relationship in a rocky situation. She could make no new demands, ask no more favors after this, not unless she wanted to be dropped like a nasty habit for all the school to see.

And this was precisely the trap she had long wished to avoid. She was not about to lie down and give into a boy just to keep him from going elsewhere, however, she wasn't willing to give him up either. And now that Spock had Jim—_Jim_, of all people—playing relationship tutor instead of the much honorable and considerate Hikaru, Nyota felt her back slowly pushing up against the wall.

_Fine_, she thought primly. _Two can play this game_.

She embraced Spock, murmuring, "Thank you. I am grateful for your respect and understanding." She kissed him lightly and chastely on the cheek. "Now if you'll excuse me, I really do have to get to the gym."

* * *

Jim Kirk never saw her coming.

Alone in the men's gym locker room, he had just gotten out of the shower after completing three whole gym hours. One of hour of excruciating cardio, and two hours of agonizing weight-lifting. One hot shower and a fresh pair of boxers later, he was feeling wondrous. He wasn't expecting a girl come out of nowhere, slam him up against the lockers with one hand and tightly grab his balls with the other.

"Nyota," he yelped, "you're not allowed in here."

"Yeah," she snapped, "we're doing a lot of things we're not supposed to, aren't we?" She twisted his balls to the right, making him screech. "Listen, Kirk, 'cause I'm only going to say this once. Spock has started confiding in you. And while I understand it's your tendency to think with _these_—" she twisted his balls again, letting him screech before she continued, "—you're _not_ going to encourage the boy I love to do the same. Understood?"

He could only respond with a yelp.

"And for the last time," Nyota gritted her teeth, "whenever Spock has a problem with me, you tell him _to talk to me_. When it comes to advice, you and Hikaru suck."

She twisted his balls harshly one last time. "And Kirk," she added, "if you some hussy chatting up my boy, intercept that shit and do what you do best, hear me? Better your dick than his."

She finally let go and moved away.

"You were the one who encouraged this," he rasped behind her. "If you hadn't kept letting him kiss you and touch you, none of this would be happening. _You_ taught him about needs and wants. You gave him a taste, and now surprise, surprise—he wants more. Do you really expect to put a lid on _that_ Pandora's Box?"

Nyota shuddered at his honesty. It irked her that he spoke so truthfully.

"Everyone calls me the 'skirt-chaser,'" Jim cruelly continued. "I'm not the only in this school, Ny. You know how many times a guy can jerk off in one day? Can you guess what we dream about _all night long?_ Do you have any idea how _hard_ it's going to be for your boy to say no when another girl comes knocking, pleading, offering him everything you're denying? Oh, I'll admit—Vulcan honor won't let him say yes right away, but the girls' in this school have been longing to taste your man since way, way, _way_ before you ever got here."

"You're a worthless, pathetic, dirty-minded _pig_, James," Nyota said without looking at him. She didn't dare look at him. She didn't want him to see the twin streaks of tears running down her face. "I can't believe a proud girl like N'Tal _ever_ let herself be touched by an idiot sheep-fucker like you."

* * *

_That bitch_.

Jim Kirk stormed down the halls of Laidley, more furious than he ever remembered. It wasn't like him to think of Nyota Uhura as a bitch, but this time, she'd gone too far.

He couldn't be held responsible for whatever happened next. As he approached his friends' dorm, he could faintly hear his roommate's voice.

"…I mean, I really like Christine," Lenny was saying, moving to sit on the rug between Spock and Hikaru's beds. "And I know she likes me, but I'm just not sure she feels the same way. She's a lot more personable than I am."

"And I hear she can kick your ass," Hikaru snorted. "How humiliating was _that?_"

Lenny scowled at his friend. "So _anyway,_" he continued, "I'm trying to think of a good place to take her this weekend on the holodeck."

"Mardis Gras?" Hikaru shrugged. "Give her a taste of home, you know?"

"Does she like opera?" the Vulcan blinked.

"Here's a thought," Jim Kirk entered suddenly, dropping a bag near Lenny, "who cares? Maybe getting tied down to one girlfriend isn't something we should be doing anyway."

"Speak for yourself," Hikaru snickered, slipping off his bed. "I'm happy with mine. She's alive, she's clearly into me, _and_ she puts out," he explained, giving meaningful looks to each of his friends. "Speaking of which," he grinned, "I think I should go pay her a visit." He winked at his roommate, who gave him a look best described as wistful, before heading out the door.

"What's in the bag?" Lenny sighed in defeat.

"Power couplings from the Riverside Transport Center," Jim said matter-of-factly. Even Spock's eyes widened when he said that.

Lenny, in the meantime, was appalled. "That was _you?_"

The Iowan shrugged. "Their insurance covered the replacements. Anyway, in order to build a transporter, I _have_ to have primary couplings _from_ a transporter."

"In order to build a _what?_" Lenny asked, rising to his feet.

"Absolutely not!" Spock exclaimed, slipping off his bed. "I think we've done our fair share of stunts for the year, gentlemen."

"I concur," Lenny nodded at once. "Jim, this is a bad idea. Our families are pissed enough as it is."

"Guys," Jim rolled his eyes, "if we put our heads together it'll only take a few hours. And then we can bury ourselves in a sea of red-hot townies who think that future Starfleet officers are hot."

Lenny rolled his eyes. "Jim—"

"It's better than moping over a girl, okay?" Jim snapped. "My God, I am so sick of them having all the power! Not all of us are going to be lucky like Hikaru, all right? Len, do you seriously think that somewhere Christine is pining over _your_ ass? She's the new girl, all hot and popular, and only here for one semester. And Spock? _Your girl does __**not**__ want to fuck you_. Oh, she'll kiss you and touch you and tell you all the things you want to hear while you get hard, but in the wink of an eye she'll be suddenly off to whine to all her girlfriends about how boys are 'so mean and dirty.'" Jim snorted. "Don't you two ever get sick of it? Don't you just want a girl who wants _you_…and just lets _that_ be the end of the issue?"

* * *

"_To She Who is Love and Life_

_The desert bloom against the Forge_

_My beating heart, a flapping petal_

_In the sweetly scorching wind_

_Fingers so nimble, mending my dress_

_Would that they'd mend my troubled heart as well…_."

Number One looked up suddenly to see Nyota in the Buskirk Lounge carrying a datapadd and looking at her in awe.

"You're a fan of Mikonna?" she gasped, taking a seat on the gray couch next to the black-haired Illyrian.

Number One nodded. "In my old school, her work was quite popular." She paused. "Then again, it _was_ an all-female school."

"I'm a huge fan of Lady Mikonna," Nyota sighed dreamily, resting her head of purple and black hair against the couch. "She's so romantic, you know? It's so strange…I've read the works of many male writers who were supposed to be romantic, but they never touched me the way she did."

"I know exactly what you mean," Number One nodded, pulling her legs onto the couch and dragging a purple chenille throw over her feet. "Sometimes I think only a woman can truly love and understand another woman, body and soul. The other day, I went to bed with James Kirk and…nothing. He's supposedly one of the best lovers in our school, and I felt nothing."

Nyota chuckled wearily. "First time with Spock, I thought, 'I love this boy. He's a Vulcan, and he's full of control and patience. It should be good.' _Wrong!_ I was sore for days. And when it was over, all I could do was cry like a sissy."

"My first time was with an Illyrian," Number One said. "His birth name was Seyel, but he earned the title 'Ninth Moon.' He was a dancer, graceful and strong. I thought he'd make a great lover." She gave Nyota a rueful smile. "I too was wrong."

Nyota smiled back at Number One, suddenly feeling very close to this strange girl. Inspired, she asked, "So what does Illyrian sound like, anyway?"

* * *

"Okay, guys," Jim announced, "this is just a test run." He stood up, and the three boys surrounded their garbled-looking contraption. Thanks to the Vulcan's brilliant technical expertise, building a transporter device hadn't taken nearly as long Jim had thought it would. He tapped the buttons on the device around his wrist, and they did the same.

"Now," Spock said hesitantly, "I'm a bit concerned about our targeting scanners. I'm afraid they may go off-line any moment."

"_Please_ don't say that," Lenny groaned. "I don't want to end up in a wall somewhere."

"Just a test run, guys," Jim calmly reminded them. "That means in one hour, no matter what, we will automatically beam back here. Then we'll work out whatever kinks we find, and then we'll beam downtown and meet us some hotties."

"You're sure the school sensors won't detect us?" Lenny asked for the millionth time. "If the headmistress finds out about our unauthorized transport…." He shuddered, rather than finish the sentence.

"I programmed the transport to scramble the sensors," Spock replied, "but even so…the scrambler too can also go off-line."

"Aw, _man_," Lenny moaned.

"Transport in three," Jim began the countdown.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Lenny shook his head.

"Two," Jim went on.

"I tend to concur," Spock said nervously, or at least the Vulcan equivalent.

"One, guys!" Jim called cheerfully. The contraption sparkled and trembled, and the boys began to dematerialize.

Seconds later, they rematerialized, and Spock swayed on his feet.

"I believe I am…'queasy,'" he murmured.

"Damn it!" Jim snapped. "It didn't work! We're still in your dorm room, Spock!"

"I'm not so sure about that," Lenny said grimly, and Jim's eyes followed his gaze. On Spock's wall, above his immaculately made bed, was a picture of the earth with a dagger through it. That same symbol was on his and Hikaru's covers, and on the blue rug between their beds.

Jim was at a loss for words. "Uh…WTF?"

"We're in your room, Spock," Lenny mumbled, "but it's not your room."

Beside him, Jim's confusion was rapidly turning to irritability. "Where the hell are we?" He turned to his know-it-all Vulcan, but there was no luck there. Spock, who was bright-awed with awe, only had one thing to say about the baffling situation, and it shed no light whatsoever.

"_Fascinating_."


	8. Chapter 8

**Mirror, Mirror on the Wall….**

"WTF?"

"Jim, calm down."

"_WTF?_"

"I said calm down, Jim," Lenny bit out, trying to quell the rising alarm. "Something is seriously wrong here."

"_You think?_"

"I have a theory," the Vulcan interjected, "I believe we have stumbled across an alternate reality."

"Alternate reality?" Jim exclaimed, his panic intensifying. Lenny, though quiet, wasn't much better off. He was tensing and paling and looking as though he were about to have a stroke.

Spock moved about the dorm room, gingerly touching items and explaining. "This _is_ my room," he explained, "just as these _are_ my things. See here, my altar, and smell that…my favorite brand of incense. And this is my Mt. Seleya pendant, a gift from my father two years ago."

The door slid open and closed suddenly, and a voice snapped harshly from the doorway.

"Get away from my things, you thieving _kre-nath_*."

Spock turned to look _at_ Spock; try as he did, he could not resist a slight expression of surprise. He gazed upon his counterpart; the other Spock wore his hair very long, down to his waist, with heavy streaks of blue. His hair matched his uniform of black and blue form-fitting armor. He looked elfin, but without the innocence or divine aura.

"You will vacate my _shi'yuk_ at once," he ordered briskly, "before I report you to the—" The Other Spock stopped suddenly, finally realizing he was speaking to himself. He gasped openly, brow furrowing. "You…are _me_."

"Alternate reality," Lenny gasped, deathly pale now. "Goddamn."

"Spock," Jim said hesitantly, moving to his friend's side.

"_I_ am Spock," the Other Spock stated brusquely.

"As am I," Spock began, and Jim heard a slight hitch in the Vulcan's voice, "we apologize for our violation of your private lodging." He bowed his head slightly. "We came here via transporter malfunction."

"Malfunction?" Lenny snapped finally. "Is that what you call it?"

"Might I remind you," Spock said evenly, "we did use a transporter built at the last moment with 'bootlegged' parts for a 'test run.' A malfunction was a logical expectation. However, there is no reason to fear. Our wrist devices are programmed to beam us back to our original location in the next 52.78 minutes."

"You," Other Spock suddenly hissed at Jim, completely ignoring his counterpart, "are Kirk."

"Oh, dear," Jim shuddered. He didn't want to think of what _his_ counterpart was like in this world.

"_You_," Other Spock continued, stepping closer, his whole body exuding animosity, "tried to claim my mate for yourself last year." A brief snort and sneer came and went. "You failed."

"Your mate?" Spock demanded. "Aren't you young to have a mate?"

Other Spock raised an eyebrow. "I am seventeen. I have already been in battles. In our world, it is logical to claim what we wish when we wish it, as we may die any die."

"How the hell have you already been in battles?" Jim demanded in bewilderment. "In our 'verse, we're only allowed to train at our age."

Other Spock snorted. "You people are weak. You would never last in our world. This is the first school to train young people and send us into battle. The headmistress does not brook laziness or fear in future officers of the Empire."

"Empire?" Lenny blinked. "You mean 'Federation,' don't you?"

"Hardly," Other Spock raised his eyebrow again. "We are subjects of the Terran Empire, a military society ruled by your fellow _khrashik_ red-blooded descendants of primates."

Jim scowled, clearly miffed. "Ouch much?"

"Backstabbing _kho'stri_," the Other Spock continued grimly. "My ancestors came to your planet in peace once. You murdered them and took their technology."

"In our world," Lenny corrected him quickly, "that didn't happen. Vulcans and humans live in perfect peace as allies in a United Federation of Planets."

This seemed to puzzle and intrigue the Other Spock. He looked away briefly, mulling this information over before finally muttering, "Fascinating."

"Who is your mate?" Spock asked suddenly. "Is she a fellow Vulcan?"

"Unfortunately, no," his counterpart answered honestly. "My _khaf-spol_ beats only for a _qom'i_."

Spock barely contained a flinch. "A human?" He knew the rest of the conversation as though he'd heard a thousand times before.

"Nyota Uhura," his counterpart sighed.

"Nyota?" Jim and Lenny chorused.

"She consumes me," the Other Spock rasped, moving around them to sit on his bed. "At first, she was my _shi-kar-tor_. I thought I would hunt her, capture her, and make her _mine_."

"To eat?" Jim asked stupidly.

"But then," the Other Spock went on, ignoring Jim as his face fell into his hands, "she bore me down, pinned me to my own bed, and turned me into a willing _kafeh_."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "You two indulge…_katelaya?_" he finished delicately, after struggling for a term and deciding on the Vulcan. He didn't feel comfortable discussing this so openly anymore.

"Every night," his counterpart nodded. "She comes to me every night."

"_Every night?_" the boys chorused. Of the three, Spock was the most appalled.

"Her _keshtan-ur_," his counterpart sighed wistfully, "becomes so wet, so tight for me." He fell back on his bed. "The mere fragrance lays waste to my resistance. I become so helpless I forget all dedication to my _olozhika_."

"I can't listen to this," Lenny covered his ears, moving away, as though suddenly and desperately needed distance. "I can't hear him talk about Nyota this way."

"I could hear a bit more," Jim and Spock said at the same time. Spock shot his friend a reproachful look—or at least the Vulcan equivalent—and Jim sheepishly shrugged.

"Is Nyota your mate in your world as well?" the Other Spock asked suddenly, sitting up.

"Not exactly," Spock explained uneasily. "She is mine, but we do not…_katelau_."

His counterpart gazed at him with awe. "How do you resist her? When she comes to your bed at night, legs opening like a lush, inviting _ku-li_, how do you say no?"

Spock tensed and turned a very deep shade of olive. "Well…I suppose I have a lot to explain."

* * *

"It's so much like ours," Lenny gasped, as they strolled down the now-unfamiliar halls of Stellar Valley. Everywhere they looked the frightening symbol of the Terran Empire was painted or engraved. Students wore armor, and some even carried weapons. The Other Spock had dressed the boys in similar armor, so that they wouldn't attract attention.

There were a lot more aliens at this school, and some of the species were unfamiliar. Not that it mattered; this world was far too fascinating to focus too much on the more confusing aspects.

"And yet so different," Jim murmured. "Look at their faces. How many of them have seen war?"

"At least 78.92% of the student population has been in battle," the Other Spock answered him. "And 22.76% of all students who ever attended this school have died in battle."

"Fucking God," Lenny gasped, as he suddenly stopped walking. "_Fucking God!_"

Jim and Spock stopped with him and looked where his eyes followed. Both boys went deathly pale with shock.

Vira Zwan, Nyota Uhura, Christine Chapel and Number One all stood talking to each other in a corner. They were dressed in the most horrific outfits the boys had ever seen. They all wore black miniskirts, black thigh-high boots, and black, single-strapped halters displayed finely toned stomachs. They had tattoos up and down their arms, along with coiling bracelets, and heavy streaks of purple in their hair.

"So," Lenny mumbled, "Christine's actually a blonde. Go figure."

"They look like the Bitches of Eastwick," Spock cringed.

"That's _Witches_ of Eastwick, Spock," Jim said tensely.

"If you say so," the Vulcan snorted.

"And I wouldn't exactly go around saying shit like that," Jim added nervously. "The students here are _killers_, remember?"

"Nyota," the Other Spock called to his mate. "Attend, _T'sai_ of mine." He gestured for her to come over, and she slunk over to him in such a provocative manner that it made Spock uncomfortably flinch. He was initially repulsed, but then he saw how her stomach, cleavage, shoulders, and neck were covered in brazen bite marks.

_His _bite marks.

The sight had such a profound affect on him that he was rendered speechless, even as she sidled over to where he stood and winked at him. Mutely, he gawked at her like an idiot child.

"_Dvinsu_ of mine," she greeted her lover, "who is this tender-looking one? Is he a member of your _pi-maat?_"

"He is a brother of sorts," the Other Spock mused, stroking his mate's neck before leaning in for a single possessive kiss. "He has traveled a great distance. He wished to meet the one who laid claim to my_ i'ki_." He lifted her hand to kiss it.

_They are so…_comfortable_ with each other,_ Spock marveled. Even in this world where the species so brazenly lacked respect for one another, these two had managed to love each other fully and openly…consistently

"How did you know?" he asked them suddenly. "How did you know this…was meant to be?"

"I didn't know," the Other Nyota replied with an honest shrug. "For the longest time, I didn't know what I wanted. And because I didn't know what I wanted, I thought I wanted everything." She grinned knowingly at her lover. "To anyone who paid me attention, I responded in kind. But none of them truly wanted me…except for Spock. He was willing fight for me. He was willing break ribs and spear flesh just for the pleasure of serving me." The couple kissed tenderly, which was odd, considering the circumstances.

"You consumed me from the moment I saw you," the Other Spock admitted to his lover, kissing her neck again. "Your gaze held me captive and helpless, like a desert traveler in the grasp of a _sirshos'im_. Pursuing you 'til the end was merely a matter of the simplest logic."

Again, the couple kissed. It filled Spock's mouth with the oddest taste of bitterness. How could such love blossom in so barbaric a world, while he and his Nyota faltered and wilted in a universe of peace and comfort?

_Well, that's kind of the point, isn't it?_ a snarky voice in his head asked coldly. _In this world, they have little. They go into battle as teenagers, and die before their lives can even begin. They don't have time play stupid games and run around in circles; for them, life really is too short for that_. _But_ your _girl_, the voice snickered mercilessly, your _girl thinks she has all the time in the 'verse to dilly-dally with your desires and feelings. She wants everything, not just because she doesn't know what she wants, but because she actually_ _believes she can _have _everything_, deserves _everything, and should settle for no less than absolutely everything_.

For the first time in his life, Spock actually experienced pure, undiluted, unbridled, blind rage.

Meanwhile, Jim was tumbling into an emotional hell of his own.

He'd wandered off from the group, comfortable in the knowledge that anytime soon, he'd beam back to his world and never attempt anything stupid like this again. This was really going to be his last prank. The contraceptive tincture had nearly gotten him expelled last semester. He was fairly certain the headmistress would throw his ass out for sure this time if she ever found out what he'd done and where he'd gone.

_Not to mention the whole breaking into and robbing public property thing_, he figured, remembering his hometown's transport center. _There's, like, prison time for that type of shit_.

Jim drifted down the dark halls filled with armored boys and scantily clad girls. They spoke openly of death and war, of sex and betrayal. Their world was so cold, so ruthless, he was surprised everyone wasn't extinct.

But there was one student who stayed away from the crowd. They hung back in a dark corner, stiffly avoiding eye contact and devotedly shying away from all conversation.

It didn't matter how much they lowered their head or retreated into themselves; Jim would've recognized them anywhere.

Seeing them was like being hit in the chest with the bow of a shuttlecraft going at warp nine.

His heart stopped beating as he glimpsed them, his breathing slowed drastically as he hoarsely uttered their name.

"N'Tal?"

**~TBC~**

* * *

_A/N: *I got the Vulcan words from an online dictionary._

_Kre-nath_: bastard

_Shi'yuk_: bedroom

_Khrashik_: violent

_Kho'stri_: race

_Khaf-spol_: heart

_Qom'i_: human

_Shi-kar-tor_: prey

_Kafeh_: slave

_Katelaya_: mating

_Keshtan-ur_: um…take a wild guess, guys.

_Katelau_: mate

_Ku-li_: valley

_Dvinsu_: servant

_Pi-maat_: kin

_i'ki_: soul, part of the _katra_

_Sirshos'im_: soul-eater

_T'sai_: Lady, an honorific

_Olozhika_: logic


	9. Chapter 9

…**Fairest of Them All**

The Romulan's head snapped upward, her scathing green gaze briefly flickered with fear.

"What do you want, Terran?" she demanded icily in that thick, rolling accent. "I have told you twenty times before now I will not share your bed." She rose to straighten out her back, coming to stand toe to toe with him. "Which arm do you wish me to break this time? Hold it out; it will save us some time."

Jim Kirk actually had to laugh, and humorlessly so. She was so unchanged, so beautifully familiar. Unlike the other students, this N'Tal covered her midriff, and wore a long-sleeved black blouse. The silken blue sash around her waist indicated her house.

"N'Tal," he smiled weakly, "I have missed you so."

"I saw you yesterday," she snorted. "Your hair was different, and your neck bore a tattoo." She narrowed his eyes, as though looking scrutinizing him more carefully. "You _are_ Kirk, and yet you are not."

"I am from another world," he admitted, doubting she'd believe him. "And in my world, you are dead."

"_Rhe*?_" she snickered sarcastically. "And in that world, we were lovers, _ie?_"

"In that world," Jim confessed, his voice low and trembling with deep emotion, "I was your most devoted servant. I would have walked barefoot across the scorching plains of _Areinnye_ just for one glance from you."

His words caught her off guard, which was good; while she gaped at him in confusion, he dropped shamelessly to his knees, clasped both her hands to his face, and finally broke down. Not since the day he'd found her body had he wept like this.

"I have missed you so, N'Tal," he sobbed. "Seeing you lying dead there, that day…it was like you ripped out my heart and took it with you beyond the grave."

"_Vah-udt?_" she barked, trying to pull away. She looked and sounded more alarmed than angry now. "Have you gone mad?"

"I mourned you," he went on, unable to control himself. "I thought…about k-killing myself…just so I could see you again."

"What is this?" N'Tal tugged again. "What form of trickery is this?"

"It is not trickery, _Rihansu_," the Other Spock assured her. He gestured to his counterpart. "_This_ Jim Kirk has traveled a long way."

With a mix of horror and fascination, the Other N'Tal's head swung back and forth between the two Vulcans. "Which one?" she demanded shrilly. "Which one kills me? Is it this thin-blooded _kllhe?_" she spat at the Other Spock. "You took me on once and failed miserably, you weak, pathetic, bloodless chaser of Terran pu—"

"You killed yourself," the regular Spock explained solemnly, unwilling to hear her finish. It didn't even matter that she wasn't talking about _him_ per se. "An act of honor to deprive your father's enemies of the satisfaction."

"In this world," the Other Spock told them, "N'Tal's father is a favorite of our Emperor. His defection from Romulus made him richly rewarded. N'Tal is safe from her father's enemies here. Mioral's name is honored throughout the Empire."

"Which means we can't take her back, Jim," Lenny added suddenly, keeping his voice mildly stern. His friend didn't have to say anything; the thought was all over his face. "And even though she's N'Tal, she's not _your_ N'Tal." He made his voice softer, lighter to take away the sting of his words. "She doesn't remember or understand what you had together."

It pained him to see his friend suppurate so bitterly, and Lenny could tell the Romulan girl was actually touched, if still a bit confused. Lenny came forward to help Jim to his feet. His friend was clumsy, awkwardly heavy in his arms. Tears streamed freely down Jim's face; he gazed wistfully into N'Tal's eyes.

The devices on his, Lenny's, and Spock's wrists began to beep.

"N'Tal," Jim said hurriedly, his heart beginning to pound, "N'Tal, I love you. Always you. It'll _always_ be you—"

He reached out to touch her and she him, but it was too late. The trio dematerialized quickly, and reappeared in Spock's dorm.

Jim crumpled to the floor, feeling as though all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He gasped in vain as all the pain freshly came crashing down upon him. His chest ached, his heart thudded, and he felt like his head was about to explode.

_N'Tal. I saw N'Tal_.

He thought he was over this. He had bedded half the girls in the school and had fallen back on his old pranks, all in an attempt to get on with his life.

_Not happening_.

"She reached back," Jim murmured assuring himself. "I reached for her…and she reached for me back."

"Come on, Jim," Lenny said softly, gently helping his roommate up. "Let's get you home, huh?"

Jim nodded mutely, allowing his friend to help him up and out the door. Numbly, the Vulcan watched them go, thankful to see his weeping friend take his tears and flowing snot out of his room.

Was it worth it? The stabbing pain and agony which oozed from every pore of Jim's skin—was this what he really wanted? The mere thought of crying so childishly before a female sickened Spock to the core. Every ancient Vulcan instinct made him recoil at the idea of being a mindlessly devoted servant to a woman. To be at the mercy of one's heart was the suicidal shame of any properly green-blooded Vulcan. And his counterpart, rendered so helpless, so utterly _whipped_ by the urges of his own throbbing _lok_ that he was willing to forsake all his years of study, self-restraint and meditation.

Fate truly was an instrument of the divine. His journey to the Other side had been fortuitous and timely. Spock was no different from his Other self; he realized that. He understood that same desire for Nyota, that raw craving which racked at him day after day, threatening him with madness. Like the fires of Pon Farr, like those shameful stanzas of the ancient poet Kurik, Spock burned with lust like any other male in the universe. What separated him from the others was his proud Vulcan lineage, his assured sense of self, his beyond priceless identity.

He was a son of Sarek, and a son of Sarek bowed and scraped before no woman.

"Computer: Locate student Nyota Uhura of Buskirk House."

"_Student Nyota Uhura is in the Buskirk Lounge_."

Spock headed out at once, his mind racing. His plan was very simple. He was going to break up with Nyota. Then he was going to return quickly to Vulcan, where he would withdraw to his family's ancestral monastery in the Pukhu Valley. He would privately train with a master of the _kolinahr_. And when he had purged every last urge and disgusting impulse from his body, he would return to Earth to study at Starfleet with a more controlled, less distracted mind.

He found his girlfriend with that Number One female from Illyria. The two were laughing softly, occasionally touching each other's knees or arms. It was all so repulsively girlish; _he_ would never touch one of his friends in such a manner. Why in the universe did females feel the need to express themselves so? Was Nyota not an aspiring linguist? What did mean when words became insufficient for a _linguist?_

Spock watched them for a moment silently, carefully keeping his distance. He listened to fragments of their dull conversation, until one word raised an alarm.

_Mikonna_.

Spock felt his breath catch, and the sudden act took him off guard. In a split second, his view changed, as though someone had clicked something on his brain. The flipped switched caused him to drastically see things differently; the Illyrian seemed to touch his girlfriend too intimately, and Nyota's laughter seemed to carry a flirtations note to it. In a flash, Jim Kirk's words came back to him.

_Maybe she really does like girls_.

The Vulcan actually cringed. That frightening, unfamiliar wrath from earlier returned with a sudden vengeance, and before he could think Spock heard himself bark, "You will desist this hideous _ukhru-vishan_, Illyrian, or I will most certainly break your neck."

All conversation in the lounge died immediately. All heads swiveled towards the towering Vulcan clad in black. He strode forward purposefully, his dark eyes shooting venom down at two very confused girls. When he spoke, Spock's words dripped with poisonous loathing.

"Your display is disgusting," he spat. "If you wish to claim Nyota's affection for yourself, you will have to go through me."

Inside, he twitched. _Surak's breath…this was soooo not my plan_.

It was strange, but he couldn't help it. The moment he saw Nyota laughing with someone else, touching them—being so comfortable with them when she was constantly withdrawing from him—he filled with wild, uncontrollable jealousy.

"Spock," Nyota began lowly, tentatively, "it isn't like that."

Her protest simply fueled him on.

"_You_," he hissed, "don't want me. You just don't want anyone else to have me while you try to figure out what you really want."

She scrambled to her feet, kicking away the purple chenille throw. "Spock—"

"I want to break up," he snapped at her, instinctively backing away when she came near.

_That's it_, he told himself. _**Now**__ we're back on schedule_.

Gasps filled the lounge. Students twisted in their chairs to look at the feuding couple. Nyota blushed, and he could feel her whole body warm.

"I will not be your 'prized Vulcan,'" he told her coldly.

_Good one!_

"I can _have_ another girlfriend if I want."

Nyota winced and it gave Spock a twisted pang of pleasure. _Excellent!_

"A girlfriend who wants me as much as I want her."

_Hell, yeah!_

"Because believe it or not, Nyota, while you've been sitting in your dorm whining to that _Trill _all year long, I've been here, willing to walk through hell just to be by your side."

_Uh…__**no**__…falling off schedule, Spock…falling off schedule…_.

The worlds bubbled out of him, as though some inner dam had collapsed and allowed pure honesty to burst through. Spock spoke without thinking or control. "You've held me captive since the moment Hikaru first turned me in your direction…since I dried your tears and comforted you at the opera."

Blissful sighs rose and fell from girls all around them. Even Number One gave Spock a dreamy look of mild adoration, and Spock didn't miss how it made Nyota flinch.

_Um…seriously derailing now, man…_.

"So, Ny, it's either her or me. Pick one. Pick _something_. You can't have it all."

Nyota looked around herself nervously, noting how all eyes were glued to her. Spock had already forgotten where they were, and it _bugged the shit out of him_ that for her, the rapt attention of others overrode the pressing importance of what was going on between the two of them. Once again, image was more important to her than emotion.

His next words were actually screamed at her.

"_Oh, for the love of Thuwak, woman—pay me thome attention!_"

Spock felt his blood freeze and his heart stop. His head began to spin.

_May Day, dude…May Day…_.

While Nyota's dark skin blushed darker, Spock himself turned a sickly shade of green.

"S-Spock," she stammered, and whether she was torn between terror and laughter, he didn't stay to find out. He had come in, a prideful Vulcan, and now would have to slink away like yet another wounded human.

_Evil…thy name is woman_.

_Rhe_: really? (Romulan)

_Ie_: yes (Romulan)

_Areinneye_: Romulan Hell, as you all recall

_Vah-udt?_: Who are you? (Romulan)

_Rihansu_: Vulcan term for "Romulan," supposedly spelled _Rihannsu_ in the Romulan.

_Lok_: Vulcan term for…well, take a guess, guys

_Uhkru-vishan_: Vulcan term for "affair"

_Pukhu_: Vulcan word for "amber"


	10. Chapter 10

**Therapies**

"Whining to the Trill?"

Vira Zwan fired her phase rifle angrily and with frightening accuracy. She was knocking out targets left and right, hardly leaving any for the other students. Scotty was about to say something—Nyota could tell—but then hesitated and reconsidered.

"_Whining to the Trill?_" Vira railed again. "Exactly what does that pointy-eared boyfriend of yours have against me anyway?"

"Ex-boyfriend, V—_ex_-boyfriend, remember?" Nyota tried to tell her, but her roommate was too incensed to listen.

"_I_ helped you two get together!" she snarled. "I _encouraged_ you to have sex with him! And this is how he repays me?" She fired a blast so strong it blew through a level-four target and into the wall, destabilizing the entire holodeck grid.

The class collectively groaned as the simulation crackled, sparkled, and ended, but Vira barely noticed. She simply slammed her Remington-Phase 54XR down onto the floor so hard its power cell cracked. Scotty didn't try to stop her when she stormed out. Cautiously, Christine and Nyota followed her.

"Girl's gotta be real pissed to trash a beauty like that," Christine whispered. "You got any idea how many credits a fast action rifle'll run ya?"

"Not now, Christine," Nyota hushed. They hurried after the wayward Trill.

"Has anybody even seen that green-blooded fuck?" Vira demanded.

"I assume you mean Spock," Number One intercepted them en route to the mess hall. As usual, she was clad in her immaculate uniform carrying a tall stack of datapadds. "He's been in his room sick for the past two days." She gave Nyota a subtle but knowing look.

The news stopped Vira. "Spock?" She raised an eyebrow. "Sick?"

Nyota twitched. _Translation: Thuwak_.

She didn't dare say that aloud. Most people had passed his screaming off as some obscure Vulcan dialect. Almost no one had noticed his glaring speech impediment.

Vira blinked. "Spock's never sick."

"Never say never," Christine shrugged. "Even Vulcans get sick sometimes."

"Hardly," the Trill snorted. "Spock eats a strict vegetarian diet, exercises regularly, religiously takes his vitamins, and never is late with annual vaccinations. Not to mention the Vulcan body temperature alone makes his species immune to most diseases." When he friends simply stared at her, Vira rolled her eyes impatiently. "Too hot to handle, guys. Their bloodstream is a scorcher, remember?"

"He'll come out eventually," Nyota assured them shakily. Clearing her throat, she added, "If he _is_ sick, then he should recover quickly, right?"

Vira's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Ny? How come you're not upset Spock's MIA?"

Nyota shrugged awkwardly. "Ex-boyfriend, remember?"

"Which brings me to another thing," her roommate snapped. "You got dumped. In front of _people_. How come you're not holed up in our dorm room right now with a blankey, a phase pistol, and a replicator that only produces chocolate?"

Christine coughed to hide her laugh, while Nyota painfully winced. "Look," the African murmured lowly, "our families were supposed to meet in just a little over a week from now. Once _that_ day passes, I'll try to win him back, okay?"

Her roommate looked at her as though she were insane. Beside her, Nyota felt Christine trembling with repressed chuckles.

"But…but…," Vira stuttered, "but by then he may have found someone else."

Number One actually snorted, "Not if he stays 'sick'."

* * *

**3 days later**

Jim Kirk was dreaming about N'Tal.

He could feel her warmth, that searing Romulan heat which flowed through her green blood and set her skin aflame.

_Blow, blow the battle horn, I will not mourn…_.

_She's alive_.

Lying in her arms was always the best part of their relationship. She was never cold, and even though he was the man in their relationship, Jim felt as though _he_ were being protected by _her_.

Such was the extent of her warmth.

Jim sighed blissfully, turning towards the wall, into the source of the warmth. He snuggled against it, cuddled into, eager to soak up as much of it as possible.

"N'Tal," he murmured sleepily, his hands reaching out under his blankets to touch the warm, searing source. "N'Tal."

_She's alive!_

"N'Tal," he murmured once more, but alas, the soft, mumbled moan he heard in turn was far too deep to be a girl's. In drowsy, growing alarm, he opened his eyes. What he saw shocked him into falling out of his own bed, causing his roommate to jolt awake in his.

"Spock!" Jim cried. "What the _fuck_ are you doing in my bed?"

The shirtless Vulcan—_Dear God; where the fuck was his shirt?!_—opened his mouth to answer, but then reconsidered.

"Spock," Jim said in low, trembling voice, "answer me."

Nervously, Spock shook his head no.

Jim sighed impatiently. "Are you afraid your lisp will come back if you talk?"

The Vulcan nodded fretfully.

"Well, son," Jim said bitterly, "that's just too fucking bad. You committed a major no-no just now and you damn well better explain yourself."

The Vulcan swallowed anxiously, his dark eyes darting around the messy dorm room. He eyes stopped upon a padd, which he quickly picked up and rapidly typed upon, then handed to Jim.

_My friend_, it said, _I have noticed that we are both grieving the loss of ones we love. I have also noticed that females often comfort each other in this manner_.

Jim looked up at Spock, clearly appalled. "Girls do _not_ get topless and hug each other when they're miserable, Spock!"

"But, Jim," Spock began very slowly, very carefully, as though recalling some age old therapeutic tactic, "Hikaru…told…me—"

"Hikaru was _fucking with you_, that sadistic son of a bitch!" Jim flew to his feet. "Dudes do _not_ strip and get in bed with other dudes to 'comfort' them, Spock—not the straight ones, at least!"

Meanwhile, Lenny McCoy had propped himself up on his elbow, beaming a wry smile. "Do I need to leave you two alone?"

"Shut the fuck up," his roommate snapped, before whirling back on the Vulcan with the trembling bottom lip. "Spock, bro, I get how you feel—believe me. Whether by death or break-up, it _sucks_ when they're gone."

The Vulcan struggled to speak coherently. "But…how…do…we…?"

"Liquid therapy," Jim leaned to clap him on the shoulder. "That's how guys do it."

Spock blinked, cocking his head to the side in confusion. "Liquid…?" He didn't _dare_ try to pronounce "therapy."

Jim snickered. "You still have that Illias Prime program on the holodeck?"

* * *

Less than an hour later, Hikaru, Spock, Lenny, and Jim were lounging on lawn chairs under the triple moons of Illias Prime. The first three boys each carried a Risian crystal glass of Begosian wine, while Jim straight-up swigged from the bottle. It didn't matter; there was more. There would always be more here, where the warm sea waves were pitch black, and the beach was bathed in ghostly moonlight, and the computer could dutifully replicate bottle after bottle of real wine.

Hikaru smirked at the beautiful moons. "I swear we're not gay," he mused. "Look how not gay we are."

"Yeah," Lenny sniffed in equal amusement, "first two of us wake in bed together, and now the four of us are sipping an alien chardonnay on a moonlit beach."

"Not funny, guys," Jim grumbled.

Lenny immediately started singing, "_Isn't it romantic…_."

"_Music in the night_," Hikaru continued laughingly, "_a dream that can't be heard…_."

"Guys," Jim bit out, "_not funny_."

"_Isn't it romantic…_," Lenny sang anyway.

"_Moving shadows write the oldest magic word_," Spock sang softly, causing all heads to swivel his way. His voice silky smooth, pitch perfect, and to everyone's surprise—including his own—his lisp didn't emerge.

"Spock!" Lenny exclaimed. "_Dude_…is that you?"

"Does it surprise you to know I've seen _Love Me Tonight_, Lenny?"

"well, praise be, y'all!" Lenny laughed, clearly tipsy. "The lisp is gone!"

"What I don't understand," Hikaru cut in, "is how you used to have a speech impediment and never thought to tell _me_. I mean…it's _me_. Your roommate. Your guide, your confidante, remember?"

"That's not something you _talk_ about, Hikaru," Spock replied tightly. "Least of all to you."

His roommate shrugged. "I wouldn't have told _that_ many people, bro. I _can_—to an extent—keep a secret."

"So _this_ is liquid therapy," the Vulcan sighed wearily. "Great idea, Jim."

"Thons of Thawek shouldn't thwow thtones, Thpock," Jim replied without missing a beat.

The Vulcan tensed so hard he shattered the glass in his hand. "_Not_ funny, James."

"Now you know," Jim replied remorselessly. He finished off his bottle. "Computer: another bottle of Begosian. Year 2189." When the new bottle materialized he topped off his friends' glasses before resuming his swigging.

"How do females _deal_ with this?" Spock asked miserably, still painfully sober.

"Chocolate therapy," Hikaru answered for him, and he was starting to slur a bit. "They live on it for days and weep like little children until their friends finally build them up so that can go back out in public again."

"Why, Spock?" Jim asked. "The wine not doing it for you? Computer: Ktarian brownies, extra chocolate chips, extra fudge; serve hot with four sides of French vanilla ice cream."

A steaming silver plate of brownies materialized alongside four dishes of ice cream, and all the boys except for Spock attacked them at once. Jim quickly noticed that the Vulcan instantly recoiled.

"Chocolate is expressly forbidden on Vulcan," he said stiffly. "It…disagrees with our physiology."

Hikaru was the first to ask. "Disagrees how?"

* * *

"Jim," Nyota exclaimed, reaching for a towel and quickly covering her nude body. She was in the Hoobishan Bath simulation with the girls, but the other three had wandered off. "What the hell?"

"Look, Ny," the Iowan slurred, stumbling to her side. "I need you to haul that fine ass over to Laidley and make up with the Vulcan."

"James!" she cried.

"Don't you 'James' me, girl," he snapped. "There's a wounded boy up there with a bleeding, gaping hole where his heart should be, and it's _your_ fucking fault. Now," he sniffed loudly, "in an effort to keep said Vulcan, you once came to me and left a bruise on Big Sam and the Twins—they haven't forgiven you for that yet."

"He broke up with _me!_" Nyota barked. "Why should I be the one to beg?"

"Because he didn't actually _mean_ to," Jim sighed. "The lisp came out unexpectedly and ruined everything. You know, it only comes out now when he's emotionally compromised. He's actually a very sensitive boy, Ny; you have to be gentle with him. You know how Vulcans are. They're so damned tenderly misguided when it comes to shit like this."

Nyota raised an eyebrow. "Vulcans? Tender?" She tilted her head to the side. "_You've_ been to Illias Prime."

"Huh?"

"You're wasted, and the only way that could've happened would be if Spock took you to Illias Prime. Begosian wine." She laughed softly, shaking her head.

"Now, hang on a minute—"

"I _know_ my Spock, Jim," she chuckled. "I can smell the Year 2189 all the way over here."

"Aha!" he called her out. "You just said, '_My_ Spock.' You still have feelings."

"Oh, Jim—"

"No, no," he shook his head, wobbling a bit on his feet. "You still care. And he still cares. And as one who has pined every single day for the girl he lost, I'm telling you, Ny—go to him. And Nyota," Jim leaned in, "that boy is seriously fragile right now, and has a good chance of relapsing into lisping the minute he so much as looks at you. So remember: She who kicks a Vulcan when he's down will burn for all eternity in a _special_ hell…like the kind reserved for kids who remind teachers about the homework, and who take too long to decide at the replicator."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chocolate Therapy for Dummies – Vulcan First Edition (an Interlude)**

(_A/N: If you are not thoroughly familiar with the Turk & J.D. song "Guy Love" from the _Scrubs_ episode "My Musical", then stop, go to YouTube, and watch it now. You will not—I repeat—_you will **not**_ enjoy this [nor really understand it] nearly as much as you will once you've seen "Guy Love."_)

* * *

Nyota was growing cold. Her hair and skin were still damp from the Hoobishan Bath simulation, and though Jim had given her precisely nine seconds to pull on bathrobe, he was now practically dragging her down the halls of Laidley towards Spock and Hikaru's dorm room.

And what's worse, he kept talking about some "Mirrorverse" nonsense, and he spoke about it very seriously.

"…and God, Spock was _whipped_—Mirror Spock, that is," Jim was saying. "Like, severely, pussyholic whipped. I don't know what kind of skills you've got in the sack, Ny, but I'm tellin' you…share them with your boyfriend on a regular basis, and you'll have a soldier for life."

"So…you guys tried to teleport out of Stellar Valley?" Nyota tried to clarify.

"Yeah."

"And there was a transporter malfunction?"

"Uh-huh."

"And…you guys went to an alternate world where you either saw or met the alternate versions of all us?"

"That's right."

"Seriously, James," Nyota sighed, "you guys really better lay off the Begosian. I don't think it agrees with you very well."

* * *

Meanwhile, in the comfort of his dorm, Spock fell blissfully onto his bed with a giant bowl of brownies and ice cream covered in hot fudge. He giggled incessantly like an Andorian dream leaf smoker. When he spoke, he didn't lisp, but he did slur.

"Now I know why this stuff is off-limits to my people," he chuckled. He scooped another huge bite into his mouth. "I still think Vulcans should eat it more often though. It makes my brain all nice and swirly, you know?"

Lenny and Hikaru—who were now officially wasted—laughed loudly as they collapsed onto the blue rug between the beds. Their laughter made Spock laugh so hard he snorted.

"You guys are drunk," he announced happily, obviously amused. His face beamed brightly like a child's on a holiday morning. He scooped yet another giant helping into his mouth.

"You're one to talk," Lenny snickered, nearly falling onto his back. "Like, we're not as think as you drunk we are."

"Yeah," Hikaru agreed, swaying on his knees. "I mean…like…you sang Gloria friggin' _Gaynor_ all the way up here from the holodeck, dude."

The Vulcan nodded blissfully. "The 1970s were my father's favorite years in Earth history. He found disco to be most…'fascinating.'"

All three boys laughed until tears run down their cheeks. Gasping for breath, Spock finally sighed, "I love you guys."

"We love you too, Spock," Lenny slurred. He then burst into a song from a TV show from the early 21st century. Hikaru recognized it at once, even though Lenny changed the words.

"_Let's face the facts about us and you_

_A love unspecified_

_Though we're proud that you're so pointy-eared_

_Our fellow humans stop and sneer…_."

Hikaru immediately took over.

"_I feel exactly those feelings too_

_But I have to keep them inside_

_'Cause we shower, shave, and share a room_

_And so it's simply easier to hide—_"

Lenny joined him in the chorus. They slinked their arms around each other's shoulders and moved unison.

"_—than explain our guy love_

_That's all it is_

_Guy love; he's ours, we're his_

_And there's nothing gay about it_

_In our eyes…_."

Lenny went solo for a moment before later being rejoined by Hikaru.

"_We ask him about this thing we share_

_And as a Vulcan he cannot lie…_."

"_It's guy love_

_Between four guys_."

Hikaru and Lenny then began to alternate.

"_We're always about the bros before hos…_."

"_We're closer than average boys with their girls…_."

"_You know we'll stick by you for the rest of your life…_."

"_You're the only guy who's ever snuggled James Kirk!_"

Hikaru's head snapped to Lenny suddenly. "Uh…say _what?_" He looked at his roommate, who guiltily flushed green. "When the fuck did _that_ happen?"

Lenny waved it all off, singing again. "_There's no need to clarify…._"

Hikaru raised an eyebrow, singing, "_Oh, no?_"

"_Just let it grow more and more each day_

_It's like we married our best friend—_"

"_—but in totally Klingon way!_"

"Qapla! _It's guy love, don't compromise_

_The feeling of three other guys_

_Passing you a hookah_

_And getting a high…_."

"_We'll be there to help you drown your woes…_," Lenny sang.

Hikaru busted out the perfect falsetto, his voice suave and sexy. "_And we'll be there to toast your highs…_."

The two chorused:

"_It's guy love_

_Between four guys_."

Hikaru then quickly added, "_And when I say, 'I love you, bro,' it's not what it implies…_."

He and Lenny finally finished:

"_It's guy love_

_Between four guys_."

Spock sniffed, his eyes watering delicately. He set aside his brownies and ice cream, and opened his arms.

"I-I-I l-lowe you g-guyth th-th-tho much," the Vulcan huskily lisped and stammered without shame, as his tears flowed free with genuine emotion.

Lenny and Hikaru shakily rose to accept his embrace, chorusing, "We love you too, Spock."

"Oh, my God."

The boys broke up their embrace and turned to see a horrified Nyota standing in the doorway with a slowly sobering Jim behind her.

"Right there with you," Jim mumbled under his breath, but it didn't save him. Nyota whirled to face him, demanding,

"You and Spock…_snuggled?_"

_*Ignore the cliffiness of this post, guys. When I post again, I'm picking right up where we just left off. When readers want Spock on chocolate, I have to give them a good bite, not just a taste._


	12. Chapter 12

**Making Up**

"So what is it, Jim?" Nyota blinked. "You fuck half the girls in this school, get bored, and now you figure you'll just start in on the boys?"

Jim flushed a furious red. "Hey!"

"Excuthe me," Spock interjected politely, "but out of the 3942 thtudenth in the thchool, Jim hath thlept with leth than one perthent—thirty-nine thudenth, none of them male." He sniffed meekly. "Leatht of all…me."

"Bro," Hikaru slurringly assured him, "if Jim were gay, I'm sure he'd fuck you."

The Vulcan's eyes brightened. "You really think tho?"

Nyota's whole body twitched. _Do _not_ laugh_, she warned herself, _otherwise_ none _of them will _ever_ forgive you_.

In the meantime, Jim was growing increasingly uncomfortable. "Um, guys," he swallowed, "could you two _not_ speculate about this?"

"Why not?" Spock blinked innocently, his dark eyes clouding over, as though slightly trouble. "Thinthe we have both failed with girlth, the nextht logical thtep would be to—"

"_Dude_," Jim cut in immediately, "finish that sentence and so help me God, _I will hurt you_."

"Now," Lenny raised an eyebrow, "are we talking spanking or dripping melted candle wax onto naked skin?"

"Maybe there could be some chains and massage oil involved," Hikaru added cruelly. Nyota, in the meantime, felt her whole body twitch violently. _God, they're all seriously wasted_.

_Do. __**Not**__. Laugh_.

"Fuck you guys!" Jim roared. "And Spock, I think you've had enough brownies for today!"

At that Nyota's head snapped towards the Vulcan's bowl. Spock clutched it tightly and possessively, his dark eyes flashing a dangerous glint.

"It's _mine_," he stated pointedly, and greedily stuffed another huge bite of the dessert into his mouth.

"Chocolate?!!?" Nyota exploded. "You gave him _chocolate?_" She swept into the room like a desert storm, coming to stand between Spock's bed, and Hikaru and Lenny, who seemed unable to stop laughing. "You _never_ give a Vulcan chocolate!" she wrung her hands. "Don't the nerds in your Houses teach you _anything?_"

She turned and tried unsuccessfully to take the dessert bowl from Spock. Her attempt quickly turned into a graceless tug-of-war. Spock was like a small—albeit superhumanly strong—child with a piece of candy; anyone who wanted to take it from him was going to have to pry it from his cold dead fingers.

Naturally, the ex-couple looked completely ridiculous.

Lenny and Hikaru bowled over again.

"_I like chocolate!_" Spock wailed suddenly. "_I __**like**__ chocolate!_"

Even Jim was rolling now, leaning breathlessly against the doorway. Nyota, on the other hand, wasn't feeling the humor. Once again, the boys were in over their head. They had pulled yet another stunt without gathering sufficient information first and without even stopping to consider the consequences.

"Spock," Nyota attempted to appeal to his logic, "Spock, baby, listen to me. Vulcan physiology _cannot_ handle chocolate."

"I know," he nodded happily, beaming a brilliant smile. The angelic innocence of his face touched her deeply and briefly, and for a split second she deeply feared for his healthy. "It maketh our brainth all thwirly."

_Do not laugh_.

"Spock," Nyota said, breathless from repressed laughter and growing frustration, "sweetie, Vira told me all about this. You may feel fine now, but tomorrow, you're going to be seriously ill."

"You mean like a hangover?" Hikaru piped up. "Is Spock gonna be hung over?"

Once again the Vulcan's eyes glowed brightly, ever excited about a new experience. "Will I weally be hung over, Ny?" Spock asked eagerly.

_Do not laugh, woman. Do __**not**__ laugh_.

"In a sense," she replied uneasily. "Except it's much worse for your people. You have to stop eating it _now_, and we have to go down to the Nurse's station to get you a shot." She turned a scathing gaze onto the other boys. "And _you_ all better go sleep this off! If the headmistress finds out you got wasted on campus, she'll have your asses made into mincemeat!"

The boys groaned, except for Spock; he chuckled to himself, dreamily mumbling, "Atheth made into minthmeat."

Nyota shuddered. _Girl…do…not…laugh…_.

Hikaru and Lenny somehow climbed to their feet and stumbled out of the room with Jim, no doubt to get into some other mischief while Nyota cautiously took the bowl from Spock, set it aside, and then extended her arms to help him off the bed.

Sighing, he confessed, "I'm thowy I bwoke up with you, Ny."

"I-I-I'm sorry too," she stammered stupidly, unsure of how much more of this she could take. If he didn't stop lisping soon, her brain was going to explode.

"I wanna get back together, Ny."

_Wanna? Did I just hear a Vulcan say_ wanna? "I'd like that too, Spock," she replied tightly, trying now to pull him off his bed. _So this is our great make up story? _she wondered wearily._ Tomorrow he's going to wake up and…well, we're going to need a whole new word for "mortified."_

Spock suddenly wrapped his arms around her and looked hopefully into her eyes.

"Thpend the night with me?"

_**DO. NOT. LAUGH**_.

* * *

"How could you _not_ laugh?" a bewildered Vira Zwan demanded the next morning, over brunch. She'd stopped right in the middle of lightly buttering her whole wheat toast. Beside her, Christine and even Number One were practically rolling on the floor, forgetting about their egg-white omelets and spiced teas (Number One had taken to even mimicking what Christine ate).

"_Because_," Nyota rubbed her aching temples, too tired and too irritable to laugh now, "he was vulnerable, and whenever I find him in situations like these, I always hear _your_ voice in _my_ head telling me _not_ to laugh."

The Trill threw back her head of long purple locks and cackled heartily. "Did you at least get some sex?" she asked finally, getting back to her toast.

Nyota clutched her steaming cup of Klingon coffee as though it were an elixir of life. "No," she bit out. "The Nurse laughed her ass off while she shot him full of sedatives. But unfortunately, he's a friggin' _Vulcan_, and apparently they have a drug tolerance which rivals that of an entire herd of elephants. It was _hours_ before he finally shut up and went to sleep."

"What was he babblin' about anyway, _bébé?_" Christine asked.

"Not babbling—_singing_," Nyota corrected wearily. "Like a drunken Klingon. He went through an entire register of archaic drinking songs in High Vulcan. Which were wicked filthy, by the way," she shuddered. "Apparently Spock's ancestors had, like, eighty thousand different words for 'fucking' because _apparently_, fucking was all they could think about!"

Once again, her friends roared with laughter. Even she had to smile a little about that one, especially since she now knew her boyfriend had an exceptionally beautiful singing voice. It had been endearing how he'd cradled her in his arms and sang song after song in a rich, clear, deep voice…every single one of them about sex.

_Like, message much?_

It didn't matter. It had felt good to lie in his arms last night; he smelled of musk and chocolate, and his body had been warm and comforting. Simply lying in bed with him had turned her on immensely. If he had tried to make love to her there and then, she would have allowed it. But alas, once she was worked up enough, he'd suddenly fallen off to sleep, snoring louder than a foghorn.

"So," Number One asked finally, "Klingon simulation at three today?"

"Yes," Nyota nodded. "I finally finished reprogramming my holodeck _Suus Mahna_ tutor to give us lessons in Klingon martial arts instead. Hey Vira, that Lt. Kemora Tahr whom you met aboard the _Mayweather_…is she still coming to do a seminar on military tactics?"

"No can do, Ny," Vira shook her head. "I got a message from her yesterday. She was en route to Trill to finally be joined. See, the day I met her, she had just finished the final phase before symbiont selection."

Christine gasped, awestruck. "She's actually getting joined? Do ya know whom she's gettin'?"

Again, Vira shook her head. "That info's classified for now. But she promises to swing by after her joining to introduce me to her new self. Or should I say, _selves_."

"Fasceenating," a new voice cut in. "I hawe newer a met a joined Treel." Vira twitched without even looking up.

"Hi, Pavel," she greeted wearily. "We were supposed to meet tomorrow, remember?"

"_Da_,*" he nodded. "_Yzveenee,**_" he bowed his curly head politely. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but I noteesed you hawe some new samples in Botany Bay 6, _da_?"

Vira looked wary, and that piqued Nyota's interest immediately. Was her roommate aware that sixteen-year-old girls on Earth _never_ got involved with thirteen-year-olds? Especially not when their boyfriends looked like Hikaru.

"Yes…," the Trill answered carefully. "Why do you ask?"

"I was hopeeng we could catalogue some samples togezer, _da?_"

"Oh, Pavel," Vira cringed slightly, "that's really not necessary—"

"I am familiar with all sewenty-six species, Veera," he assured her. "My asseestance will cut down your work by 63.94%."

"Take him up on it, V," Christine said at once. "We got _bat'leth_ trainin', bridge operations trainin', Klingon linguistics tutorin', and _zero_ time to indulge your plant fetish, _comprends?_"

Vira visibly shuddered, but managed to bite out, "Oh, all right! Pavel, I'll see you tonight at six."

The boy's face lit up as though he'd won a million credits in the lottery. "_Spaseebo_***, Veera!" he glowed. He quickly snatched up her hand without her permission, kissed it and then practically skipped away, leaving a horrified Trill behind.

_Now_ was Nyota's time to laugh.

*Russian for "Yes."

**Russian for "Excuse me."

***Russian for "Thank you."


	13. Chapter 13

**Illicit Smoochies**

**Nyota and Spock**

The girls practiced on the holodeck for two hours learning Klingon moves and terminology. Nyota and Vira adapted to weaponry seemingly quickly, while Number One and Christine struggled a bit. Nevertheless, they worked up a good sweat and learned several new moves. Afterward, they parted ways and hit the showers.

When she was dressed comfortably, Nyota went to see Spock. Hikaru had commented over lunch that the Vulcan had been sleeping the whole day away, and attributed to the chocolate binge from the night before. Nyota allowed herself a soft snicker as she headed down the white halls of Stellar Valley, quietly singing one of the Vulcan songs Spock had slurred out last night.

"_Sweet T'Lya, your taste remembered_

_Your lips remembered, both above and below_

_I think of you as fresh garden soil_

_Awaiting the one with seeds to sow….  
_

"_Sweet T'Lya, my kiss remember_

_My tongue remember, above and below_

_I think of your legs as a parting feast_

_The crowning dish a single row  
_

"_Sweet T'Lya, my love remember_

_My twining, twisting push-and-throw_

_My sinking, stretching, scorching flesh_

_The height to which my lengthening grows  
_

"_Beloved T'Lya, never you render_

_Never you flee and leave me alone_

_Remember my teasing, tormenting tender_

_As you knelt before me…on your father's throne…."_

Nyota blushed dark and rich as she heard those lyrics pass through her own lips. She even giggled on her way to Spock's dorm, eager to remind him of all the delightful naughties he'd launched into last night. She could already predict the exact shade of green he'd turn once she reminded him.

He opened the door for her, shirtless and sweaty from deep and troubled sleep; his dark hair was slightly tousled, and his face weary.

"Nyota," he greeted lowly, his tone neutral and reserved. "Thank you for your assistance last night. I assure you I am well and I apologize for my behavior." How…how did he summon that stoic Vulcan grace from the ashes of a bizarre night? Once again he was the crisp and elegant scholar, ever filled with courtesy.

It was…_hot_.

Nyota found herself appreciating him openly, looking his body over repeatedly and insatiably.

Spock stiffened slightly, suddenly self-conscious, misunderstanding her appraisal.

"I apologize for my appearance," he said uneasily. "I was not expecting you. If you would grant me five minutes—"

She cut him off with a kiss, and its intensity surprised even her. She assaulted his mouth without his permission, sinking her fingers into that dark, crisp hair (whose blue streaks had conveniently yet to fade) and pressing herself invitingly against him.

It caught him off guard…for .02 seconds. After the brief shock wore off, his hands were suddenly running all over her, kissing her back with equal ferocity.

Their mouths moved to each other's necks, and since his chest was already bare, Nyota ventured lower biting between kisses, nipping lightly at his nipples.

Spock offered meek protest between kisses. "You don't…have to do this…if you don't want to…I…respect…your body…." He ripped open her cotton shirt, freeing her breasts. "I…_worship_…this skin…."

The rest of their clothes were hastily shed, and Spock was happy to let her take the lead. Just as with their Mirror counterparts, Spock let himself be pinned to his own bed while his woman took him from above.

_Damn_, Nyota mentally gasped, _Vira was right. It is_ so _much better when the girl's on top_.

She set the rhythm, she set the pace, and he dutifully followed. He bruised her in all the right ways this time, causing her body to clamp and tighten just like it did when they first met. Her involuntary reactions to him spurred her on, driving her to claw at his chest, to lean in and bite him hard enough to draw blood.

He gripped her hips, but not too hard; he was probably still tired from all the chocolate and sedatives. Nyota bit her bottom lip, grinning with the realization that _this_ time, _he_ was completely at _her_ mercy.

That's when it hit, that violent implosion which tightened and shook her whole body like an earthquake. It struck him too, because he growled as he exploded, while she bit back her cries.

**Guy Love**

Hikaru scowled as he passed Lenny's bong to Jim. Normally, Andorian dream leaf soothed whatever was bothering him, but it just wasn't working today.

"Dude, doesn't the Russian whiz kid bug the shit out of anyone but me?"

"What did he do?" Lenny asked, waiting impatiently for his hit. "What _can _he do?"

"Oh, I dunno," Hikaru scowled again, "stalk my girlfriend, con her into late night lab sessions, slobber all over her in public—pick one."

Jim laughed in mid-inhale, causing himself to choke. He passed the bong to Lenny, who was chuckling too hard to smoke right away.

"Bro," Jim snickered, "are you…jealous?"

"_No_," Hikaru glared at him. "It's just…plants are _our _thing. Vira and I got together in Botany Bay 6. I handle specimens better than even she."

"And Pavel," Lenny coughingly reminded him, "can do damn near _everything_ better than _everyone_." He shrugged. "Let sleeping nerds lie, dude. He's no threat to you."

"Am I the only one who remembers this child is _thirteen?_" Jim announced loudly. "I seriously doubt that _any_ girl three whole years older than he would wanna climb on _that_."

Hikaru sighed irritably. "That's not my point. And don't underestimate him because of his age. He's a _guy_. With an actual _brain_."

"Who's going to do _what_, Hikaru?" Lenny laughed, passing the bong. "Write her love letters in binary code? Find a vintage autographed photo of Leonard Nimoy and send it to her in a bouquet of comic books? Let's be real, bro."

"This is hopeless," Hikaru set the bong down, rising to his feet. "If you're not going to take this seriously, I'll head off to find my Vulcan, who always takes _everything_ seriously. At least he was willing to admit that maybe—just maybe—this whole having a girlfriend thing is ultimately pointless." He headed for the door.

"Hikaru!" Jim called, and the strange, sudden forcefulness in his words stopped his friend in his tracks. Jim heavily dragged himself to his feet and approached his friend, grumbling, "I am sick to _death _of listening to you boys with perfectly good girls—who are still alive, by the way—whine about your fucking problems. This may come as a major shock to you, but I don't want to have these conversations anymore. And in order to ensure that, bro, I'm going to give you a gift. I'm going to remind you just how good you've got it, so that you _never_ start this shit again."

Hikaru opened his mouth to fire something back, but Jim silenced him with his own. Hikaru tried to pull away from Jim's kiss, but his friend gripped his shoulders tightly, firmly holding him in place. Behind them, Lenny clutched his chest, fearing a heart attack.

Jim didn't give him a quick peck. No, no…the Iowan made the kiss _last_, and even closed his eyes for emphasis while Hikaru shuddered and struggled—his loud protests thoroughly muffled—to get away.

After a horrific eternity, Jim finally pulled away. He had the gall to look Hikaru calmly in the eyes, stating, "Now the next time you wanna get all dramatic about your girlfriend and thinking about giving girls up altogether, _remember that_."

Hikaru fled.

Jim turned around slowly, shuddering as he met Lenny's wide, baffled eyes.

"I need a drink," he rasped, going voiceless as the reality of his actions began to sink in. "_STAT_."

"Illias Prime," Lenny scrambled to his feet, nodding in complete understanding. "I'm buying."

**Cougars on Trill**

Vira Zwan had to admit she was impressed. That was the only word left for meeting a scientist as smart as she. Even Hikaru was nowhere as knowledgeable as the Russian prodigy.

His slender fingers were quick and nimble as he separated the samples. He mumbled to himself softly, like a child dreamily reciting a nursery rhyme.

"_My Czarina is no wealthy maid, nor born to purple cloth or gold…_."

"What's that?" Vira asked him absently, as she enclosed the separated samples in individual glass canisters.

"Mm? Oh, zat," he blinked. "A poem my mozer taught me as a child. Eet's about a young preence who refuses to marry a girl from a noble family because he lowes a peasant girl. He tells his parents zat she is royalty in his eyes. 'Her heart is purer zan ze clearest wodka; her eyes are sparkling jewel-bright.'"

Vira smiled. "What made you think of that?"

He blushed shyly. "_You_ deed."

The Trill raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

"Mm-hm," he nodded innocently. "Many students speak your name wiz disdain, but I theenk zey are just jealous. You will be a brilliant scientist some day, while zey will all die old, forgotten ensigns in Starfleet."

Vira laughed, charmed and touched by his admiration. No one, not Hikaru or Nyota, had ever described her as someone with a brilliant future. They had accepted she was smart, and often found it useful, but that was pretty much it.

"I'm thinking about being joined," she confessed. "Joining increases a Trill's knowledge and experience tenfold."

Pavel nodded confidently. "You will greatly enrich whichever symbiont is assigned to you. Your predecessors will no doubt be honored during your _zhian'tara_."

Vira stopped in the middle of processing plant. Her hands froze as she beheld the Russian in sheer amazement. "You…know the Trill rite of closure, of meeting previous hosts?"

Pavel shrugged casually. "I know ewerything." He turned to her. "I know someday, when I am older, I will ween your heart and conwince you to run away wiz me to unknown star seestems, where we will make many great discoweries, _da?_"

Vira actually blushed. "I'm taken, Pavel. But thank you. I'm deeply flattered and…honored by your attention."

Once more, but more tenderly this time, he lifted her hand and kissed it.

"Honor is all mine, Veerushka*."

* * *

**A/N**: *Russians add _–ushka_ to the end of a female name as a term of endearment.


	14. Chapter 14

**Getting to Know You**

_Now_…she understood.

Now Nyota understood while Vira and Hikaru screwed round the clock. Now she understood why Jim was constantly bed-hopping.

Because when the sex was good, it was _addictive_.

Satiation created insatiability in a strange, uncontrollable cycle. Even after she rolled off Spock, she couldn't stop touching him, couldn't stop biting and kissing his sweat-soaked flesh. She clawed at him like a feline possessed, touching and taking without permission.

Not that he minded. Her rolling off him simply prompted him to roll her onto her back, pin her down, and take what he wanted. She smelled so unbearably good; her blood tasted sweet in his mouth when he bit her shoulders and upper arms…places not easily seen.

_Her_ keshtan-ur_ becomes so wet, so tight for me_, his Mirror counterpart had once said to him. The boy hadn't been kidding. Nyota's body received him as though that were its sole design.

She moved with him, rather than tense and stiffen beneath him; and whenever he bit her, she bit back all the harder. She dug her nails into his back and cried his name over and over again.

It drove him on like one of his ancestors in the maddening grip of _Pon Farr_.

Completion was achieved yet again, for a moment, pleasant weariness set in.

"My, my," she sighed, snuggling against him, "I _cannot_ believe I've been denying myself this."

"Nor can I," Spock nodded, slightly breathless. "We should have been doing this all along."

"I'm sorry I stopped us."

"No matter," the Vulcan replied dismissively. "It is logical to assume we will continue regularly from hereon out."

Nyota twisted to bite his shoulder hard. It woke a growl from deep within his throat.

"Be careful," she murmured. "That word—from your mouth—has always had a powerful effect on me." The two kissed deeply before falling to talk once more.

Spock spoke first. "When I traveled to the Mirror Universe—"

"Wait a minute," Nyota blinked. "That trip was _real?_"

"Of course," the Vulcan nodded. "I met our counterparts. They were feverishly in love. _Your_ counterpart was covered in bite marks."

"So…in that 'universe,' we did…_this_…often?"

"The Other Spock said every night."

Nyota's mouth speechlessly hung open.

The Vulcan's reply was wry. "My reaction as well."

His girlfriend was appalled. "So, like…I'm a total slut in the Mirror 'Verse?"

"_No_," Spock raised an eyebrow. "You're in _love_ and in a monogamous relationship. They both made this very clear to me."

Nyota sniffed. "I guess that's okay. How did Other you convince Other me to get it on?"

Spock shrugged. "Something about how I was the only willing to break ribs and spear flesh simply for the honor of serving you."

She warmed against him. "And is that true?"

"At first I thought he was completely 'whipped' as you humans say," Spock admitted. "But then the Other you explained that originally, you didn't even want him—at least, not _just_ him. You wanted everyone. You want everything because ultimately, you didn't know what you wanted."

He caught her off guard. "I-I-I said that?" she stammered.

"Not you. The Other you."

"But…but it fits, doesn't it?" she asked, clearly still flabbergasted. "You…agree with that assessment?"

Spock tensed for a moment, but then reconsidered. He was tired, pleasantly tired, and she was ruining his buzz. Suddenly, something from his counterpart, some strange, unknowable strength crossed over and his infused him, and before he could stop himself, he heard himself saying,

"Listen, Ny, because I'm weary of these dramatic circles we keep going around. I'm Vulcan, and after last night, I've decided I like being Vulcan. Being human is just too exhausting and illogically complicated.

"With that said, let me make this clear. I've broken up with you already once before, and I'd rather not go through that again. But I meant what I said. I'm nor your prize or your one-up over the other girls. I love you, Ny, and I am willing to stay with you forever, and if that appeals to you, then good. But honestly, I find I like sex and have no desire to stop. I want to skip to the part where we are happy and stable and comfortable enough to be honest with each other. I don't want anymore unnecessary arguments, splits, or abstinence. That's not what I signed up for when I got into a relationship. That's not the relationship my parents have. That's not the relationship Hikaru and Vira have.

"So to answer your question: yes, Nyota. I think you _do_ want everything because you don't know what you want. You were the new girl, 'a fish out of water,' as humans say. There was nothing familiar to you, and you felt you had no place here. But then, you made friends and got a boyfriend. But at heart, you're still the new girl. You still think nothing that happens to you here applies to you, because you're not really from here, and you might not stay here.

"Truth is, Ny," Spock finished finally, turning her teary face towards him, "I don't want you to be the new girl. I want you to be my girl. And I want you to smile and glow and be happy when you and your family visit mine on Vulcan."

"Dude, I seriously need your help," Hikaru burst in suddenly. He saw the couple in bed and cringed. "Since when you are two back together?"

"Since Spock serenaded me all night with dirty Vulcan drinking songs," Nyota replied honestly, wiping her tears and moving further under the sheets.

Spock winced next to her. "I did _what?_"

"It was really hot," she assured him. "Not even Jim's got a mouth that dirty."

"Look, I think it's cute that you two are having this whole 'reunited and it feels so good' going on," Hikaru pulled his own hair, "but if you don't focus on me right the hell now, Vira and I may never have another moment again."

Spock blinked calmly in disbelief. Was this actually happening? Was there some law in the universe that where someone was happy, another must be utterly miserable?

Nyota, on the other hand, chuckled in deep amusement. "This is about Pavel, isn't it?"

"Pavel?" the Vulcan echoed.

"Hikaru probably thinks he's losing his girl," she started to laugh even harder, "to a thirteen-year-old nerd, no less."

"Yeah, yeah…binary code love letters and autographed Leonard Nimoy pic," Hikaru rolled his eyes. "Lenny kinda beat you to that one, Ny."

Nyota snapped her fingers in mock disappointment. "Shucks darn."

"I'm confused," Spock shook his head slightly, as though trying to clear it.

"Obtuse humor, Spock," his girlfriend chuckled in explanation.

"No, no," the Vulcan corrected, "I meant the name. Who's Leonard Nimoy?"

"_Anyhoo_," Hikaru interrupted irritably, "is no one else concerned about that little bitch toddler?"

"No, sweetie," Nyota shook her head. "Just you. Only you would panic about a _child_ holed up in a science lab with your sixteen-year-old girlfriend. Only _you_," she laughed for added measure, "could think that—"

"—two nerds with _the_ biggest brains in school could possibly find anything in common?" Hikaru sarcastically finished for her.

"He has a point," Spock raised an eyebrow. "Both possess unnatural levels of intelligence. Each is practically the other's match."

"Spock," Nyota mumbled tightly, "_not_ helping…."

"And though he is thirteen _now_," the Vulcan went on, as though his girlfriend hadn't spoken, "he's not going to be thirteen forever. Soon, the three-year difference in age will be completely meaningless. When they enter Starfleet together they will be on completely equal footing." He looked at Hikaru and gave a polite now. "Logic dictates you have sound reason to panic, my friend."

Hikaru sank down onto his bed, flinging his hands in the air. "_Thank you! Thank. __**You**_." He glared at Nyota. "See how simple that was? Would that have really been hard for you?"

Nyota rolled her eyes. "You can stop it, though," she wearily offered hope. "When was the last time you took her on a long, romantic date in the holodeck?"

"Or studied her planet's culture in-depth?" his roommate asked.

Hikaru gave a look of sheer dismay. "So…there's homework now?"

"Karu, a relationship isn't just about screwing each other's brains out all over my or your roommate's bed," Nyota said pointedly. "It's about getting to know each other. Learning about each other's childhoods and desires for the future."

"You guys didn't do that," Hikaru blinked.

"And look where that got us," Nyota replied. "Besides," she turned to Spock, "we plan to do so now. Our families are meeting next weekend and until then, we are going to educate ourselves thoroughly about each other. Right, dear?"

"Affirmative," Spock nodded. "I found our break-up most disagreeable."

Nyota grinned broadly. "As did I."

* * *

"Don't we need Spock to give us access to his program?" Lenny asked, when Jim didn't lead down towards Laidley.

Jim snorted. "Hell, no. I bootlegged that sucker the first time he gave us access. _And_ I added a few adjustments."

The few "adjustments" turned out to be a host of Orion slave girls hosting a party on the beach. They wore the skimpiest bikinis Lenny had ever seen; he didn't even understand how the hell they stayed on.

Lenny sighed. "I'll pass."

"What, still mooning over Christine?"

"I'm not 'mooning' over her, Jim," Lenny replied irritably. "We've got a connection. We've got a routine. We've got a…thing."

"Sure," his roommate nodded, "sans the sex, the kissing, the touching, and the open acknowledgement of your…thing." Jim chuckled.

Lenny rolled his eyes. "Very clever, bro. Like Voltaire-worthy. All the more amusing coming from the guy who just locked lips with—"

"_Dude_," Jim's eyes flashed dangerously, "do not finish that sentence."

"Maybe," Lenny sneered, "your pussyholism is just overcompensation for…something else."

"_Not_ funny, bro."

"No," Lenny agreed, giving a faint bemused smile, "it's not. It's never funny when it's you, is it?" He yawned. "You hang out here with the Green Orgy. Get shitfaced. Have a ball. I'm off to find to Christine."

He left before Jim could protest, forcing the Iowan to watch him go. He suddenly covered with several long, slender arms slinking and sliding over his body. He was covered with affection, and yet it was empty. Not just because it came from holograms, but because it didn't come from the one he truly wanted.

_I wonder what Janice is doing tonight_.

* * *

"So zis…Kemora Tahr," Pavel inquired, "she is close friend of yours?"

"Hardly," Vira chuckled, as they walked the rapidly emptying halls of Stellar Valley. "I met Lt. Tahr aboard the _Mayweather_, en route to Earth. We've been writing back and forth off and on ever since. When she gets back, she won't even be Tahr anymore."

"Because ze host assumes ze symbiont name," Pavel nodded slowly. "Someday, you will no longer be a Veera Zwan."

"Correct," Vira beamed. "Have you noticed you don't have trouble saying the V in my first name?"

Pavel blushed deeply. "It takes, a lot of effort."

She smiled warmly back at him. "I appreciate the effort."


	15. Chapter 15

**Strength**

The great thing about the _Serengeti_ was that if you had a program which helped you work _towards_ the simulation, you were allowed to use the holodecks during the week.

"As we covered in our initial lessons, the Klingon martial arts aren't strictly about strength, but also momentum, opportunity, and mercy. The gift of a quick and painless death, for example, is considered quite merciful."

The holographic Vulcan instructor (who strangely resembled an older version of Nyota, by the way) spoke with a crisp, elegant British accent which tended to make the girls believe almost anything she said.

"Even for a Vulcan?" Christine Chapel raised a teasing eyebrow. Nyota Uhura inwardly sighed. If humor was often lost on a living Vulcan, did she really think a holographic was going to catch on?

"My ancestors practiced the neck-breaking technique of _tal'shaya_," the instructor explained. "With the _tal'shaya_, death is instant and painless. It was revered as a most merciful form of execution. So yes, Christine…even for a Vulcan, that is mercy."

She began demonstrating a new set of moves, and the girls silently followed suit. The instructor moved slowly enough for them to grasp the movements, before she slowly increased speed.

"As you pick up in speed," she explained, "you must bring force to movements going outward. Think of it as taking strength from within, and unleashing it beyond yourself."

"_Hah!_" the girls yelled in unison, when demonstrating the final punch of the sequence.

"Again," the instructor ordered, moving with them from the beginning. "The Klingons believed strength, like life, comes from the blood. You must feel it coursing through your veins and roaring through your ears. You are either born with strength in your blood, or you are a bloodless _p'tak_. Either way, the universe will attack you, and you will either live or die."

Strange to hear such words coming from such an impassive-looking Vulcan, but Nyota inwardly shrugged. It all came with the reprogramming.

And besides, she was grateful. It was good to hear about inner strength and such.

"_Hah!_" came the cry of the final punch.

"Excellent," the instructor nodded. "And now, weapons. We will continue with the _bat'leth_." Immediately after she uttered those words, a table appeared with five _bat'leths_, all glittering and sharp. Each female went and took one.

_So shiny…like pure silver. I wonder how it'll look dripping with blood…_.

"Remember your first stance," the instructor called out, cutting into Nyota's thoughts. "Both hands lightly on the handle. Remember, a bat'leth is not a weapon separate from your body. It is a part of your arm, a physical manifestation of your strength, and an extension of your core." She handled it deftly, twisting and turning it smoothly, and even balancing it delicately in the crook of her arm.

It never ceased to amaze Nyota how graceful Klingon martial arts was. When Starfleet officers wrote memoirs and recanted their battles against the Klingons, they read like horror stories, bloody tales of savage, mindless barbarians.

"When brought down from an overhead strike, the _bat'leth_ can pierce clear through bone and several centimeters into flesh," the instructor explained. "Let's try ten in a row. Remember, draw the strength from within your blood, not from within your arms."

_Within your blood…strength within blood_. Such an amazing concept, and vaguely familiar. Nyota mulled it over some more as she practiced swinging the blade over her head and bringing it down to hit the same spot over and over again. This really was her weapon. Christine, Number One, and Vira weren't too fond of _bat'leths_, but the more Nyota wielded one, the more she figured she could get used to it. She could definitely get used to being strong.

_I find I like sex and have no desire to stop, _Spock had said. _…I don't want anymore unnecessary arguments, splits, or abstinence_.

Nyota twitched, almost throwing off her overheard strike. The sex had been good, but then…but then he'd said _that_.

_I don't want you to be the new girl_, he'd said._ I want you to be _my_ girl. And I want you to smile and glow and be happy when you and your family visit mine on Vulcan_.

It was as though he was saying, _Don't be sad, Ny. Don't ever be sad—it's such a total drag for me. The sex was good, wasn't it? You're happy to have me, aren't you?_

_I don't want you to be the new girl. I want you to be _my_ girl_.

So…he didn't want her to be whoever she was…just his girl?

There was a time when thoughts like these worried her, made her sleepless, made her stomach clench with frustration and fear. But this time, it wasn't happening. There was just something about swinging a bat'leth and working up the blood which made a girl feel pretty good.

_He's right. I'm not the new girl anymore. And I _do_ have friends_.

She brought the blade down in a perfect strike.

_And they're _not_ even his friends—they're mine. I friended Vira when no else would. Unlike him, I wasn't intimidated by her genius._

_I simply found it annoying sometimes, like everyone else_.

Nyota was beginning to see what her instructor meant by the sword becoming part of her arm. When she didn't cling to the handle too hard, it was easier to balance, to manage and maneuver. The blade didn't weigh so heavily in her hands.

If she were to be completely honest with herself, then no; Nyota _hadn't_ wanted any of the other girls to have him. He was the only Vulcan in the school, and all the other girls had failed. And until the stunts had started, he had been the most responsible, _the_ most respectable student at Stellar Valley High.

"Now," the instructor announced, "we're going to maneuver the blade from one hand to the other and back. Almost like twirling, but a little more difficult. Begin."

But then she had given him a taste of sexual aggression, and which had helped N'Tal to awaken his violent aggression, and after seventeen years of reinforced repression, he hadn't been able to handle it.

But Nyota was willing to accept her responsibility.

The trick to "twirling" the Klingon sword was to have faith, faith that one hand would easily catch what the other one tossed—without being nicked in the process or dropping it on your toes. One way or the other, whether the blade would be caught or not, it had to be let go.

_Fascinating_.

"Excellent work, ladies," the instructor called, "now we're going to practice thrusts and parries. Remember, do not _push_ your blade toward your opponent's. Rather, use _their_ momentum to deflect their own blade. Computer, four opponents."

Nyota's opponent materialized and attacked a split second afterward with an overhead strike. Nyota immediately blocked the falling blade, bent at the knees to absorb their forces, and then smoothly twisted her bat'leth to the right and then quickly stepped out of danger.

"Good!" the instructor called.

'Good?' Indeed, Vulcans had a gift for understatement. This was _great!_ Nyota found swordplay most invigorating. She alternated between defensive and offensive fighting, moving around her opponent and using her short stature and smaller build to her advantage. She found that she was surprisingly fast and had excellent stamina, thanks to all the gym hours. Long after her housemates were gasping, sitting out, and ordering holographic bottled water, Nyota was still going.

It was exhilarating.

_Like, I've got_ strength! _Real, actual strength!_

"Boo!" Christine said suddenly. "Show-off! Give it up already, _bébé_; I wanna get somethin' to eat."

"Yeah, Ny," Vira yawned. "I'd like a shower before dinner."

"I find Nyota's display to be most impressive," Number One shrugged. "She has adapted to this martial art form far better than any of us."

"Hence the term 'show-off,' darlin'," Christine rolled her eyes. "Boo! Let it go already!"

_Fine_, Nyota thought. _I'm ready to let it go_.

"Computer," she called, "end program."

* * *

The Buskirk girls showered, donned their purple flannel pajamas and headed into the mess hall where they abandoned their torturous diet of strictly fruits, vegetables and whole grains. Instead, they indulged some Klavnian open-faced sandwiches with extra Andorian bacon and Denebrian potato fries. After dinner, they ordered Ktarian chocolate ice cream and went to relax in the Buskirk lounge.

"So," Christine began slyly, "what's with you and Mr. Thirteen?"

Vira sighed wearily. "Guys, let that go. It's not like that. As you say, he _is_ thirteen."

"But he won't be forever," Nyota chuckled, grateful there was a new target for teasing. "What about when you're both at the Academy?"

Nyota could swear the Trill blushed beneath that golden-brown skin.

"Look," her roommate murmured, "it's not like that. Granted, Pavel is very sweet and surprisingly knowledgeable about Trills. But he's thirteen."

"However," Number One raised a dark eyebrow, "Nyota has pointed out that he will _not_ be thirteen forever. It is the future we're focusing on just now."

"Has everyone forgotten about Hikaru?"

"Not at all, _amie_," Christine shrugged. "But you can honestly say you two will be together forever? Word has it that just months ago he couldn't stand you."

"And once you two started cozying up, remember how quickly he forgot about you in favor of N'al? Remember how you had to _slap_ him just to regain his attention?" Nyota smirked.

"Meanwhile," Number One interjected, "with Pavel it was more like love at first sight. He knew who you were and how you were when he met you—and like you exactly as you are."

As soon as their words were out, Nyota almost regretted them. Vira looked as though she'd been stricken across the face. Nyota was about to laugh it off, remind the Trill that they were all just teasing, but the Vira spoke up, shocking them all.

"You know," she said almost hoarsely, "he wants to wait until he's older to 'win my heart.' He thinks I'm destined for this great future as a scientist and he wants to travel to distant star systems with me, making discoveries." She snorted humorlessly. "Pretty silly, huh?"

"No, darlin'," Christine sighed like a weary old matron. Nyota, who felt as though the breath had been stolen from her very lungs, was amazed any of them could speak at all. Even Number One seemed to be melting in her chair.

"Not silly," Christine assured the Trill. "_That_, ladies, is romance—pure and old school."

Nyota later found her boyfriend on the Laidley balcony. He was wrapped up in heavy robes, gazing wistfully at the moon, as though hypnotized by its mere presence. Nyota smiled slightly, remembering that his homeworld had no moon.

* * *

"Spock," she called to him softly.

It was like he had to wrench his gaze from the pallid orb in the sky. "Yes?" he asked absently.

"Why do you love me?"

He blinked, caught off guard, before those old Vulcan wheels began turning as he no doubt attempted to calculate the appropriate answer.

"It is my impression that love _cannot_ be defined," he said finally. "It is, by nature, an unknowable and inexplicable phenomenon."

Nyota laughed tiredly, and came forward slowly. "That's a myth," she mused. "For example, if I were to say I loved you, it would be most likely because you are rational, and reasonable, and you adhere to the principles of Vulcan honor. I would say I love you for your intelligence and your responsible nature—past antics notwithstanding."

She could see him tense as his head tilted to the side. "Your choice of words suggests speculation rather than declaration. One would deduce that you do not love."

"No, I don't," she confessed. "And you don't love me either. To be honest, Spock, neither one of us has the slightest clue what love even is."

"My parents—"

"—don't tell you everything," Nyota cut him off softly. "Some stuff just isn't your business. You have to live it for yourself to truly know."

"But I feel—"

"Lust," Nyota nodded. "Desire. Curiosity. Quite natural…for a kid."

"I'm _seventeen_," the Vulcan replied stiffly. "I'm not a 'kid.'"

"But you are," she assured him gently, "as am I. We don't want to admit these things, but they're true."

"In that other world I traveled to," Spock argued, and she could hear the control straining in his voice, "I saw how in love we were. And it went beyond lust. My counterpart was utterly bewitched and helpless before you. There was nothing childish about them."

Nyota shrugged. "Their world was cold, wasn't it? Students dying in their youth. Children shipped off to battle. They had to grow up fast—we don't. We have futures, options, and just because we're fucking each other now, it doesn't mean we won't be fucking other people next year."

Her brutal phrasing made him wince. "We have a serious relationship," Spock said resolutely. His voice shook a little when he spoke. "One we agreed we would work on seriously and stop this ceaseless circling—"

"Spock," she said softly, leisurely playing with a tendril of his hair, "what do you think is happening to your roommate and his spotted lady friend? Why do you think he's so threatened by a thirteen-year-old child?"

"Hikaru has been negligent in getting to know Vira better," Spock replied. "But their love—"

Nyota laughed aloud, and she had to admit, the noise came out slightly harsh. "That's not _love_," she snickered. "It's not even romance. They got together on the floor of a science lab. They screw round the clock but I bet you they don't know each other's birthdays or even each other's parents' _names_." Nyota laughed even harder the more she thought about it. "Sex isn't the 'next step' in a relationship, sweetheart; it's _love_—and sex without love is usually quite meaningless." She gave a casual shrug. "Call a it dirty secret we humans deny in order to lie to ourselves."

She laughed as she took him into a light embrace. "I want to love you, Spock. In more ways than one, you truly are one of a kind. I want to love you for so many reasons, but before that can happen, I think we need to get to know each other _before_ we let all the sex blind us."

"But I thought that—"

"Spock," Nyota cut him off again, this time there was a serious note in her voice. "Do you really want to end up like James Kirk? 'Cause right now, somewhere, he's banging some chick's brains out, and it's not meaning a damn thing. And don't use N'Tal as an excuse…I'm already sure he'll play that card for the rest of his life. Jim was a bed hopper long before he met his Romulan lady love—why do you think that is?"

Spock seemed to flounder, as though desperately adding and subtracting variables; multiplying and dividing factors, looking for the right percentage.

"Jim is hick, Spock," Nyota said bluntly. "A hick boy from a hick town, growing up without his perfect, legendary father, wrestling farm animals, and harvesting corn. What he _does_ have, however, is a mean old stepdaddy who never misses an opportunity to tell him every day that he's a piece of shit. And when a person deals with that long enough, Spock, the transient pleasure of joining flesh is sometimes the only thing that gets them through."


	16. Chapter 16

**Checkmate**

The Vulcan immediately looked as though he were both confused and alarmed.

"Are you saying…," he faltered for a moment, "are you saying Jim uses sex to numb his pain?"

Nyota laughed at his surprise. "Is it really that shocking?"

"It is illogical," the Vulcan frowned slightly. "Pain is most efficiently dealt with when it is confronted and its primary issues reconciled. That is basic psychology."

"True," Nyota nodded, "and simple…but not easy. Either way, taking sexual advice from Jim has always been a mistake." Her eyes narrowed in mild admonishment. "That would be why I've repeatedly tried to discourage it."

Spock stiffened. "I don't think Jim wouldn't want to hinder what we have. Such malicious behavior towards a friend is not in his nature."

"No, no, it's not," she agreed. "But on Earth, we have a very old saying, Spock. It states that 'the road to hell is often paved with the best intentions.' I'm going to take a stab and guess that Jim once suggested that in male-female relations, girls have all the power."

By the Vulcan's subtle flinch, she knew she was on to something.

"And he probably said this during the time you and I weren't having sex?"

His continues silenced merely confirmed it.

"And you, being wounded and vulnerable and feeling deprived, no doubt jumped on that theory, because you could see the logic?"

Spock actually shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"Spock," Nyota sighed, suddenly feeling older and wearier, "I have a proposition. We are to travel to Vulcan next weekend, so I suggest you make your choice by then. I want you to go to Jim. I want you to talk to him—really, truthfully, honestly, talk to him—about sex. And if you believe he's truly happy, and that sex is the main reason he is, then I will glad step aside so that another, more willing girl can take my place at your side.

"Because today, Spock, today I wielded a Klingon _bat'leth_ better than I had ever before and _today_, I realized that true strength, the true joy of being is intangible; it comes from a place far beyond the physical realm. You're a student of Surak—you know what I mean." She lifted his hands and looked into his eyes meaningfully. "Spock, I'm sorry I tempted you from your path of discipline and self-control. I accept responsibility for that. Especially because I was right the first time. We're kids, and we're not ready for this."

Her words, her tone, her facial expression…they all the most profound effect on him.

He didn't like where he'd been these past several weeks. Consumed by aching desire, humiliating himself with chocolate, supporting his friends' indulgence in pranks…it wasn't right. It wasn't him.

_Strange that a human should remind me I am a Vulcan_.

It was like…talking to his mother.

* * *

James Kirk got back to his own dorm quite late that evening, eager to shower off Lizzy Dehner's sweat. He could swear that girl was psychic, because when he made his usual promises after he rolled off her, she immediately threw him out of her room.

He was only mildly surprised to find a very pensive young Vulcan in his room. He became even more surprised when he saw his elfin-eared friend was setting up his altar in the center of the dorm.

"Uh…Spock?"

"You have a lot of a pain," Spock said matter-of-factly. "In a way, we all do. But I'm beginning to think you and I can help each other."

"Spock, Lenny is—"

"Staying in my room for the night," Spock cut him short. He gestured for his friend to sit across from him. When Jim hesitated, the Vulcan asked, "Whose bed were you in just now?"

"Elizabeth Dehner's," Jim answered without thinking.

"And did she please you?"

"For an hour," Jim shrugged. "Why…is this important again?"

"Well, I was wondering if she made you feel better…about everything."

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Everything?"

"Did using her body bring N'Tal back to life? Did it make your stepfather suddenly vanish into thin air? You've now slept with forty girls in this school; has any of that changed the last seventeen years of your life?"

Jim was flabbergasted. "Spock, what the hell?" he gasped, finally coming over and sitting on his bed. "Where is this coming from?" He raised an eyebrow. "Did you and Ny have another fight?"

"Not at all," Spock assured him. "We just had the best conversation we've ever had. I am myself. She is herself. I have never admired or respected her insight more."

"Let me guess," the Iowan snorted. "She talked you back into abstinence."

"Sex without love is transient and meaningless. Minors are often incapable of truly understanding romantic love. Therefore, logic dictates that sex amongst minors is…illogical." Spock gasped softly, as though he'd stumbled across some golden equation. "I am myself," he repeated more confidently. "I am myself…again."

"Oh, great," Jim rolled his eyes. "Now you're going to go back to telling me 'this is a bad idea' and 'that is irrelevant' and how boring bullshit like sonic distortions in space are 'fascinating.'" Jim chuckled. "Admit it, Spock. Walking on the wild side these past few weeks—that was fun."

"Danger and deception are twin evils of the universe," Spock calmly replied. "Therefore, indulging 'fun' begotten from them is…illogical. Mischief is a counterproductive indulgence."

Spock gasped again. What was it Nyota had said?

_…Especially since I was right the first time_.

All this time, he'd had the right answer. All this time he was struggling and searching and he'd known the truth all along.

Jim sighed loudly. "Does this mean you're going to go back to being a statue?"

"Jim," Spock began gently, "my father once explained to me that emotions run deeply within my people's race, even more deeply than with humans. Our logic is a key to serenity. You feel so much pain and it controls your actions. Wouldn't you like to change that?"

"No," came the defiant reply. Jim even crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child. "I _like_ who I am, Spock. I have fun. I enjoy myself and what I do."

"Then I regret to remind you that Starfleet captains don't pull stunts which endanger people," Spock said simply. He didn't miss the angry flush across his friend's face. "I'm sorry, Jim, but I don't envision _you_ sitting on the bridge of a starship—_any_ starship. I don't see someone so reckless and morally deficient being put in charge of the safety and education of others. If you truly believe that your impulsivity and consistent disregard for regulations are what's going to _get_ you into the captain's chair, I'm afraid you're deluding yourself.

"However," Spock added, lighting a candle, "your people have an old adage which states that when one teaches, two learn. If you will allow me to teach you a few things about discipline and self-control, who knows what I myself may learn in the process?"

* * *

The next day, during gym hours, the four girls from Buskirk found themselves in gray sweats toiling away on treadmills in the gym, each one aiming for at least a one-hour walk.

"So have you decided what to do about Pavel, _amie?_" Christine Chapel asked.

"For the billionth time," Vira Zwan replied, "I'm not _doing_ anything. There's nothing _to_ do. He's thirteen, as everyone so kindly—and constantly—reminds me."

"But in the future," Nyota asked, "would you consider him?"

"Again," Vira sighed heavily, "you're forgetting Hikaru. We're together remember? We want to leave Stellar Valley together, go to the Academy together, and serve on a starship together. That's our plan."

Number One raised an eyebrow. "On my homeworld, we have an ancient saying: 'If you wish to amuse the gods, tell them your plans.'"

Christine and Nyota burst into hearty laughter, while Vira remained starkly unamused.

"There's nothing wrong with Hikaru," Vira bit out. "He's perfectly good and caring. I respect him, and he respects me."

"_Mais bien sûr,_ _bébé_," Christine chuckled, "until you stop puttin' out. That's when he'll start talkin' that 'irreconcilable differences' shit."

Even Number One laughed at that, while Vira remained staunchly humorless.

"Guys," she said irritably, "I can't just break up with a guy I actually like for no reason. That doesn't make any sense."

"We're not saying break up with him," Nyota assured her. "We're saying that you're sixteen and you can decide the entire course of your life right now. I mean, you're Vira Zwan today, and sixteen right now. Within the next few years, you'll be Vira Something-Else-or-Other, and you'll suddenly be _centuries_ older. Plan all you want, but I swear that once you get joined, the new you is going to derail everything the old you mapped out."

Vira began to walk more slowly, as though mulling over her roommate's words.

Nyota gave her a gentle and meaningful look as she added lowly, "V, it's _okay_ to consider a future without Hikaru. It's not like you need him for survival—you have _you_ for that."

"I think the first system you and Pavel should tackle is the Clorellis System," Number One suggested suddenly. When her comment drew mildly confused looks, she clarified, "When you're older and have established careers in science. The Clorellis System is uninhabited by humanoid life and has billions of lifeforms not catalogued in the Federation database." When that _still_ drew looks, the Illyrian casually shrugged and added, "It's a just a thought."

* * *

"So," Jim raised an eyebrow at his and Spock's slowly moving arms, "this is _Suus Mahna_, huh?"

The holodeck displayed a Spartan wooden room with only softly burning candles on altars for light. The room smelled thickly of the same incense Spock had burned during their meditation the night before.

"Unlike most martial arts forms in the Federation and Klingon Empire," Spock explained, "the point of _Suus Mahna_ is not to kill or even severely damage your opponent. You want to simply neutralize or evade them long enough to stay alive."

"And this will help me in the _Serengeti_ simulation?"

"This will help _you_," Spock enunciated. "Not all battles are about conquest and dominance. Sometimes a battle is waged within for the sole purpose of achieving equilibrium."

"Equilibrium?" Jim asked, never breaking rhythm. The slow, repetitive movement was actually quite soothing, and it worked muscles he didn't even know were there.

"Vulcan philosophy posits that emotions are like the waves of a turbulent sea," Spock said, also staying in motion. "One does not achieve peace by draining the sea of its water—that would be illogical, as it would leave a person empty and soulless. Turbulent or no, they're your emotions. You are the master of the sea; the waves bow to you and not the other way around. To succumb to the turbulence is to be a slave of your own desire."

"What's wrong with desire?" Jim inquired. "I _desire_ to be a Starfleet captain. I _desire_ to explore the galaxy. How is that wrong?"

The corners of the Vulcan's lips twitched. "Most of the religions and philosophies of galaxy view desire as a negative because it is a hunger often satiated through…questionable decision-making. A desire in itself can be a wholesome, harmless wish, Jim, but the temptation to achieve that desire by any means necessary is very strong. For example, if you find yourself getting too impatient with waiting and studying and working towards a captain's rank, you can simply bribe or blackmail an Admiral."

They exercised for a while longer in pensive silence, until the lesson finally came to an end. Jim was surprised to find himself sweating.

"Will we be meditating again tonight?" he asked.

"Actually," Spock told him, "I had a different exercise in mind. How well do you play chess?"

Jim blanched. "I don't like that game."

Spock smiled _very_ slightly. "Perfect."

* * *

"Did you hear the news?" Vira told her friends excitedly, when they met in the mess hall after showering. "Commander Christopher Pike himself is coming in next week to do a survival workshop."

"Big whoop," Christine snorted. "He's gonna to take us into holodeck." She got into the dreaded replicator line which, as usual, was long.

"Nope," the Trill glowed. "He's taking kids out into the Appalachian wilds."

"To hell with that," Nyota shook her head at once. "I'm an African—we don't 'do' winter."

"I too find the snow most disagreeable," Number One nodded.

"Oh, come on, y'all!" Christine exclaimed. "Goin' out to the wilds, roughin' it for a few days on a snow-covered mountain, eatin' rations and swappin' horror stories 'round an uncertain fire—"

Nyota gave her a look. "And this should appeal to me…why?"

"_Because_," Vira beamed, "it means you'll ace the course at the Academy, and in the event you ever get trapped on some Class Hell planet, you won't die within the first couple of hours…like a punk bitch."

Her roommate shot her a playfully mean look.

"The knowledge _would_ be invaluable," Number One admitted, "but will make the experience no less unpleasant."

"Oh please, please sign up with me," Vira begged.

"What in the 'verse makes people take so goddamn long at replicators?" Christine snapped suddenly. "It ain't like we get a full assortment every night. How hard is it to pick _one_ thing off a short menu and get on with it?"

Her outburst amused her friends greatly, but she remained irritable and hungry.

"I'm just sayin', _mes amies_," she sniffed. "Them lil lunch salads don't do diddly for a growin' gal. I've seen anorexic squirrels eat more than that."

Again her friends laughed.

"Are we getting dessert tonight?" Nyota asked.

"Hells yeah," Christine answered before anyone else could. "I'm tellin' you, _bébé_; this dieting shit ain't worth it. We've been on it for a while now and all it's done is get me mighty pissed come dinner time."

"I vote we lighten up," Vira said immediately. "As long as we keep up our exercises, I think we should allow ourselves to eat a little more."

"I concur," Number One agreed at once. "I've been craving Idanian chocolate spice pudding for days."

"It's settled," Nyota nodded. "Desserts all around."

After dinner, they took their desserts to the Buskirk lounge, where they began to discuss the _Serengeti_ from a tactical perspective.

"Dibs on Chief Science Officer," Vira called.

"V," Nyota rolled her eyes, "we're going to be fighting Klingons, not examining anomalies in space."

"It'll look good on my application to the Academy," the Trill shrugged.

"I call helm," Christine said. "Ain't never been on a boat _I_ couldn't steer."

"Then I will take navigation," Number One volunteered. "I've always excelled at navigation."

Nyota cringed. Gingerly, she began, "Then that…would leave…."

"The Captain," the other girls chorused.

The African shuddered. "Hell, _no_."

"Uh-uh, Ny," Vira shook her head, "this was your idea. You gave us hope in beating the simulation. We would've taken our names off if it hadn't been for you."

"Captain Nyota Uhura," Christine winked. "S'gotta ring to it."

Nyota stiffened. "Dear God."

"You will also have to act as communications officer," Number One added. "Of all of us, you're the most fluent in Klingon."

"She's got a point, Ny," Vira shrugged. "I'm still the dimwitted _p'tak_ my old teacher said I was."

"Fine," Nyota twitched. "I'm Captain."


	17. Chapter 17

**Mending**

_One minute and, like, twelve seconds_. Lenny McCoy winced in agony as he lay on a wrestling mat in one of the gyms. _I'm moving up in the world_.

"Bubby, you're gettin' better," Christine Chapel chuckled cheerfully above him. She offered her hand, and he slowly, painfully, dragged himself to his feet.

"Can't we just…I dunno," he shrugged, "get drinks, sit down and talk somewhere?" He winced again at the throbbing pain in right side. "I plan to be a doctor, not a warrior.

"_I_ plan to be a nurse, not a redshirt," Christine shrugged.

Lenny felt a wave of sudden irritation. "I'm asking you _out_, Christine," he tried to say as calmly as possible. "And I get the feeling you're dodging me."

For the first time, _she_ blushed. _She_ shifted uncomfortably. She wasn't completely cool and sassy, laughing off whatever he said with her usual, casual ease.

Lenny blinked. He hadn't expected to catch her off guard like this.

_I should've asked her out_ ages _ago!_

Christine bit her bottom lip, and scratched her head of long hair. The purple was starting to fade a bit, showing peeks of blonde here and there. When she spoke, her voice only slightly betrayed her discomfort.

"I like you too, _bébé_," she admitted finally. "But I would rather we continue… _this_… in Mississippi next year." She shrugged uneasily. "Stellar Valley ain't the best place to start a relationship, _comprends_?"

"You mean because everyone's in everyone else's business, and everyone here is, like, _obsessed_ with sex?" Lenny snorted.

"Exactly," Christine entreated him. "I've got one friend who flits back and forth between whether or not she wants to fuck her boyfriend, and another one who's seriously thinking about returning to her homeworld to work towards becoming, like, a hundred other people all at once, who's boyfriend is sweet, but totally clueless. Then I've got a roommate who's working on becoming the female version of Jim Kirk, and yet feels _nothing_ every time she jumps in the sack with a guy." Christine shrugged helplessly. "There's too much pressure here, _chéri_. At least…too much for me."

Lenny nodded, understanding. "And until next year?" he asked pointedly. "What will we do 'til then? See other people?

Christine was appalled. "Hell no, _bébé!_" She took his hand into both of hers and grinned brightly at him. "You belong to me…_comprends?_"

* * *

"Checkmate."

Jim Kirk scowled. "I _told_ you," he said through gritted teeth, "I _don't_ like this game."

Spock shook his head unsympathetically. "Your approach to chess is that of a warrior, not a logician. Despite its warlike undertones, chess is actually a game of thought and strategy, not attack and conquest."

Jim glared at his friend. "I'm a redneck, Spock, not a Vulcan."

Spock's lips barely twitched, but Jim still didn't miss it. They were sitting in the cool blue and deathly solemn Laidley House library, and they weren't the only ones playing chess. They were surrounded by a host of students, most with blue streaks in their hair, and each with an IQ of about a thousand.

It made Jim want to retch.

"Shall we go again?" Spock asked, even as he began to reset the board.

"This is the hundredth game I've lost to you in two days," Jim replied bitterly, "so no. I'm too irritated to play again."

"In reality, it's only the twenty-third," Spock attempted to reassure him. "And as for your irritation, I would be happy to show you an exercise to quell it."

Jim raised an eyebrow. He couldn't help it, but Vulcan meditation techniques piqued his curiosity. From the moment Spock lit that first candle, Jim found himself increasingly eager to learn more. Already, he was sleeping better. He found himself feeling calmer, which made studying easier and picking up girls much less important.

"And that would be…?" he asked.

"Hold out your hand," Spock told him. "When it comes to acupressure, human physiology resembles Vulcan physiology. This spot here—" Spock tenderly touched his friend's palm, "—tends to stimulate one part of the brain, while _here_—" he rubbed another part in a circular manner, "—calms the nerves."

"Dude," Jim said lowly, "we're seriously bordering on mo territory here."

"I'm not attracted to you, Jim," the Vulcan replied simply. "You have nothing to fear from me."

"Really?" the Iowan snickered. "Because the last time the subject was broached, you seemed to be considering it."

There was only the faintest flash of danger in Spock's eyes. "That was the _chocolate_ talking, James, not me." Pause. "You of all people should understand the impact of being under the influence."

"Yeah," Jim chuckled, "it reveals our innermost desires."

The Vulcan actually twitched.

_That's it_, Jim thought. _I went too far_.

"Tomorrow evening," Spock quickly changed the subject, "I leave for my homeworld. I was initially going to loan you my chess program on the holodeck, but then I remembered my father was hosting this dinner to honor N'Tal's father." He gave his friend a meaningful look.

When Jim didn't respond, Spock said softly, "Closure can give a person a kind of peace unparalleled even by meditation, Jim. The Ambassador and his daughter lie buried in the Pukhu Valley, a region held by my family for thousands of years. A chance to talk to her grave could be…soothing."

Jim still didn't speak for a moment, and Spock could tell he was struggling to. When the Iowan finally spoke, his words were forced and halting.

"So when…when would we…leave?"

"My transport is scheduled to arrive at 1900 hours."

* * *

"You don't want to take that to Vulcan," Vira Zwan shook her head of purple, twisting locks. "That coat is _way_ too heavy. Not only is the whole planet a desert-y hell, but the air is _really_ thin."

Nyota Uhura tossed the coat aside, and instead packed the dresses Spock's mother had once given her. They fit a bit more loosely now that she'd been dieting and working diligently in the gym, but they still flattered.

"Are you nervous?" the Trill asked, when long moments passed and her roommate said nothing.

"Terrified," Nyota answered calmly. "My mother and my two sisters are going to meet me on Vulcan instead of travel with me—as was originally agreed. They are going to arrive in Shi'Kahr ooh-ing and ah-ing at every Vulcan they see, and gushing like twits in front of Ambassador Sarek. My oldest sister Zuri will try—and miserably fail—to 'out logic' a logician, while my younger sister Kamaria will find one she thinks is hot and then try to convince him that making out is an ancient and revered Earth custom for saying hello."

Vira laughed heartily.

"And my _mother_," Nyota shuddered, "my dearest, loving, vivacious mother is going to trade childhood tales with _Spock's_ dearest, loving, vivacious mother, and whatever my mother spills, I know Spock is _never_ going to let it go."

"You mean because of Thuwak?"

Nyota twitched violently. "Please don't."

But Vira was already doubled over with laughter. "Who would imagine that some Vulcan children actually struggle with speech impediments?" she laughed. "Don't they, like, practically come out of the womb quoting Surak? I mean, Thu—"

"_Don't_, V," Nyota pleaded. "I really can't be thinking about his lisp this weekend. This is a solemn and serious affair. Heads of state, diplomats, and correspondents from all over the Federation—and even from Romulus—are going to be there." Nyota sank onto her purple-covered bed. "My family better fucking behave."

"They will, they will," Vira waved dismissively. "Stop worrying so much. You're flying out Friday night, and come Sunday afternoon—"

"My family is flying out Friday _morning_, V," Nyota cried. "They're going to be on Vulcan for hours before I arrive. Do you have _any idea_ how much damage will be done in that time?"

They later met Christine, Number One, and the boys for dinner. By that time, Vira had gotten some news from her pen pal Lt. Kemora Tahr. Excitedly, she flashed her datapadd in front of her friends.

"The joining was a complete success. Kemora is feeling fine, a little sore around her midsection, but fine. She also says she feels more confident and well-rounded."

"Awesome, V," Nyota cheered.

"Yeah," Christine nodded. "I'm really excited to meet the new and improved Lt. Kemora Tahr."

"Actually, it's Kemora—"

"How old is she now?" Lenny asked suddenly.

"Over four hundred years old," Vira beamed. She sighed blissfully. "I can't wait for my turn."

Under the table, Spock subtly kicked Hikaru in the shin. The other boy jolted for a split second before haltingly joining the conversation, "And that's…something…I care about," he said awkwardly. "'Cause…you know…you _have_ wanted to be joined…for some time now."

Vira looked at him in brief confusion before going on. "Um, she returns to active duty next week, so there's further delay in our meeting. God, I can't wait to meet the new her!"

Spock gave his roommate a subtle look, but Hikaru had nothing. When the pretty Japanese boy shrugged haplessly, Spock gave him a look of sheer disappointment…or at least, the Vulcan equivalent.

"So Spock," Jim called suddenly, "you gonna be my First Officer during the simulation?"

Spock sighed lightly. "We've been over this, Jim. I'm programming the _Serengeti_ simulation, therefore I can't participate."

Jim shrugged. "The simulation is unwinnable so…what's the diff?"

The Vulcan raised his eyebrow. "It's _courtesy_, Jim."

"Vira's my First Officer," Nyota announced without thinking, reaching for the salt. She sprinkled it all over her Thrice-Hot Melarian Chili. "She's also acting as Chief Science Officer."

All heads turned her way, and Jim's jaw hit the floor. "Your First Officer? You mean…you'll be a captain."

"Uh-huh," the African nodded cheerily, digging in. She'd been craving chili for days. "Captain Nyota Uhura."

"Aye, aye!" Christine raised her fork in cheer. Except for Spock, all the boys exchanged confused looks.

"But…but…," Jim blinked, "I thought you'd be serving with _me!_"

"You mean _serving_ under you," Number One snorted. "Not happenin', _bébé_."

Christine, who'd long grown used to having Number One mimic her, grinned broadly and clinked glasses with her roommate.

Vira snickered. "You seriously didn't think we gave up junk food and trained our asses off just to help _you_, did you?"

Jim turned an accusing gaze towards the Vulcan. "You knew, right?" he spat. "You knew they were building their own crew and you never said anything."

Spock's lips twitched a bit more obviously than usual. "I saw no point in divulging the information."

"Oh, you didn't, did you?" Lenny cried. "That knocks our bridge crew down to _three_."

Hikaru shrugged. "I could be First Officer."

Jim was bewildered. "You called Helm!"

Hikaru simply shrugged again. "The job of a First Officer is easy as fuck; all he has to do is argue with everything his captain says." Shrug. "I can drive and talk smack."

Lenny held his head in hands. "We're gonna die."

"No shit," Hikaru sniffed. "That's the point."

"Not in the first five seconds!" Jim yelled. He turned to the girls. "Nyota—"

"Don't even," she raised her hand to stop him. "We _have_ our crew. We've _got_ our strategy. And fifty credits say we last longer in the simulation than you do boy."

Jim's despair immediately melted away in the face of a direct challenge. "_Done_."

Spock cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Um…guys? Stellar Valley School Regulation 619 clearly states that—"

"_Shut up, Spock!_" the entire table barked. Blanching, the Vulcan retreated into silence.

Nyota turned back to Jim, leaning in and meeting his steely gaze head on.

"You think you can handle this?" she asked.

"Oh, I've got you," the Iowan promised. "I've. Got. You."

Nyota snorted, sitting back in her chair.

"_Bring it_."


	18. Chapter 18

**Vulcan**

(**A/N**: We are now rapidly coming to the end of this fic, dearies. So if you've got requests, now's a great time to let me know).

Nyota Uhura, Spock, and James Kirk all sat aboard the _T'Linnia_, a small but luxurious transport ship which glided smoothly through Earth's atmosphere and out to the stars. There was a spacious cabin in the back designed to resemble a comfortable sitting room, complete with dark red carpets and window curtains, polished wooden tables, plush chairs and two brand new replicators which included the full Federation selection.

What made it even better was the fact that Sarek had sent out another such transport to pick up Nyota's family, thus taking of the family's private shame of a shuttle.

Pulling back one of the curtains and looking out a window, she gasped at the endless sight of blinking distant diamonds in the black.

Her bliss was abruptly cut short by the bitter Iowan.

"I can't believe," Jim said suddenly, "that after everything we've been through, you'd pit your team against mine."

Spock was immediately alarmed and rushed to halt the rising tension. "Children—"

"Oh, get over it, Jim," Nyota snapped right back. "We have a bet which _you_ accepted. Oh, and uh…you might want to concentrate on building up your bridge crew. Simulation's a week from tomorrow."

Again the Vulcan tried to inject calm into the situation. "As we have a somewhat lengthy journey ahead of us, I would think this subject would be inappropriate for—"

"Shut up, Spock," Jim interrupted, before drilling his eyes into Nyota. "I just can't see why you didn't tell about your team earlier."

"You don't have to answer that," Spock reminded his girlfriend. "After all, you haven't really done anything—"

"Shut up, Spock," Nyota derailed him, returning Jim's stare with equal. "News flash, Captain," she spat at him, "I don't report to you. And more importantly, since when did you become the 'leader' of our group of friends? What makes you think we all have to just fall in line behind _you?_"

"I didn't say that," Jim hissed. "I _never_ said that. I just assumed that since we're all supposed to be friends, we're sorta kinda supposed to _warn_ each other when we're about to stab each other in the back."

"Exactly—you _assumed_," Nyota snarled. "You assumed that because you want to be captain so badly, no one else does and no one else has ambitions and if they do, they have to clear it with you first. _Well fuck you_, Kirk! News flash—we're not all here to serve you!"

"Nyota's logic is sound," Spock mumbled quietly. "If anyone cares to know. Not that I would expect you to, even though _my_ father provided this ship, and you're all going to be staying at _my_ house, and come to think of it, if it hadn't been for me you would both be—"

"_Shut up, Spock!_"

* * *

When the transport entered orbit of Vulcan, Nyota and Jim were still bickering; even as their bodies dematerialized off the transporter pad they arguing, and once they rematerialized, they picked up right where they left off.

It was giving Spock a migraine.

"Look here, you ignorant farm boy," Nyota railed finally, Spock knew she was about to deliver a fatality. "I've about had with your meddling and your whining and your making everyone else's lives all about you. Not everything is about James T. Kirk, you corn-planting, cow-wrestling, pig-fu—"

"Welcome to Vulcan, Miss Uhura. It is agreeable to see you again."

Amused, Spock watched Nyota's head snapped away to see the sweetly smiling of Amanda Grayson. Beside her stood a glowing Bahati Uhura draped in pale pink and purple silk robes. Spock noticed neither of her infamous sisters was in sight.

"Mrs. Grayson," Nyota greeted, clearly nervous. Her voiced tightened all the more when she turned to her mother. "Mama."

"Ny, darling!" Bahati greeted cheerfully. "So glad you finally made it! Tomorrow we're going on a tour of Shi'Kahr, and I'm telling you…if you thought the Sahara was hot, wait until you see Vulcan!"

Nyota stepped down shakily to embrace the two women. Spock stepped off slowly after her, his eyes glued to Nyota's mother. He could see the resemblance, the eyes, the nose, the same smile, but Bahati far bubblier than her daughter.

_Laughter is illogical, _he had to firmly remind himself_. To laugh is to waste valuable energy_.

"This must be Spock," Nyota's mother gasped. "My, my…my daughter does indeed have good taste."

"It is a pleasure to _finally_ meet you, Mrs. Uhura," the young Vulcan replied. He tried to make his voice sound somewhat warm, and not too 'Vulcan.' He wanted his possible-future-mother-in-law to like him. "This is my friend, Jim Kirk."

"Nice to meet you, Jim!" Bahati grinned broadly. The Iowan smiled back at her. "Oh, darling, we've been having such a wonderful time," Bahati said to her daughter. "This afternoon, we went to the marketplace to pick up some Romulan _ozol_ twists. I told Amanda here all about your childhood—say, do you remember when you were eight and your father bought you that chemistry set?"

Nyota felt the blood drain from her face. "Ma—"

Spock quickly realized that, like his mother, once Bahati got going, there was not stopping her. Lightly touching his arm, she finished the evil tale. "Ny drank some horrific follicular stimulant which caused her to grow two inches of hair _all over her body! _Our electrolysis bill was sky-high _that_ month!" The two mothers laughed heartily, while the corners of Spock's lips visibly twitched.

_Laughter is illogical_.

Jim, on the other hand, was brazenly glowing like a little kid on Christmas morning.

"Dude," he immediately said to Spock, "thank you _so_ much for bringing me here!"

_Laughter…is…illogical…_.

Irritable, Nyota tried desperately to do damage control. "Ma, where are Kamaria and Zuri?"

"Well, Zuri's playing chess with Sarek," Amanda said. "She's almost one twice."

"And Kamaria is out in the northern garden talking to that nice boy, Sinoyal," Bahati said. "He's quite pretty, you know. Say, Ny, do you remember when you were twelve, and you got your first real crush on that Ukrainian exchange student?" Bahati and Amanda both laughed loudly, throwing their heads back, indicating the latter woman had already heard the dreadful story.

Spock felt a tremor run through his whole body. For a moment, he was terrified a laugh was going to explode out his mouth.

_Laughter is—_

"That boy was bow-legged as hell," Bahati went on mercilessly, "but to Nyota, the sun rose and set with his smile!"

Already, Amanda's face was dark red as she desperately gasped for breath. Jim was grinning from ear to ear, as though he knew there was a little more to this tale. Nyota looked as though she were going to be violently, while Spock awaited the conclusion with bated breath.

"Ma," Nyota tried to protest, but her voice was weak and faltering.

Bahati didn't hear her. Breathlessly, she doubled over as she finished, "You should've seen the two of them try to shake it at their sixth-grade prom!"

_Laughter. Is. __**Illogical**_.

* * *

Ambassador Sarek was a gracefully aging man, with unlined olive skin and an overall majestic presence. He and Zuri, Nyota's older, brainier sister, played chess on an ancient board made from black and iridescent stones. They were on a balcony, where the very warm breeze blew, tossing their robes in the fading sunlight. Behind them, the glory of the Vulcan desert stretched out to the hills. So engrossed in their game they were, that they didn't notice people approaching.

"Father," Spock greeted solemnly. "I have arrived."

"Mm?" Sarek asked absently, slowly looking up. His eyes rested softly on his son. He nodded slightly. "It is agreeable to see you, child. You have brought guests?"

"James Kirk, my father Ambassador Sarek. Father, _this_ is Nyota Uhura."

"Yes, of course," the old man said, rising to his feet. "You have a pleasant family."

Spock felt Nyota stiffen next to him.

"Thank you, sir," she replied. He'd noticed how quickly both of his friends composed themselves in the presence of his father. On the one hand, he was grateful. But on the other hand, a darker, more rebellious part of him wished they would act like their regular selves. He wanted to see the look on his father's face when Nyota Jim a pigfucker, or when Jim called her a backstabbing bitch. He envisioned the appalled expression on Sarek's face, and it filled him with perverse pleasure.

_Laughter is illogical_.

"Ambassador," Zuri called curtly, "check."

The old man turned slightly, and made a move. Zuri countered. Sarek made one more move before calmly announcing, "Checkmate, Miss Kamaria."

Spock watched Zuri's mouth fall open, and immediately empathized with her. Spock had been playing chess with his father since he was five and had _never_ beaten the old man.

_Like I said…Beelzebub_.

* * *

Her boyfriend's house was _pimp_.

If you could call it a house. "Palace" was a more appropriate term.

_No wonder N'Tal tried to get her grubby hands on all this_.

Nyota, like Jim, had noticed everything, from the not-so-tiny fact his family had their own transporter pad, to the polished vast wooden floors and elegantly arching halls, like those of an ancient cathedral. She had noted the spacious rooms, completed with discrete replicators built into the old wood and stone walls. There were portraits and statues of Spock's Vulcan ancestors all over the house…and said house seemed to stretch for miles.

Almost every room with an outer wall had a balcony. The tall windows were draped with some sheer, sea-green Vulcan silk curtains which all faintly smelled of incense.

The Uhuras weren't given a room; Amanda led them to a set of apartments. Each visiting Uhura had her own room, complete with a walk-in closet, a vanity with a giant silver mirror, and a queen-sized bed draped in silver curtains, which complimented the pale gray carpets of the floors.

Nyota gasped.

"I hope you like it," Amanda told her. "Sarek's mother decorated this whole house, and right before that old sorceress _finally_ succumbed to death, she made him swear he wouldn't allow me to redecorate."

"It's beautiful," Nyota whispered. "Like the bedchamber of a princess."

Amanda nodded, sighing softly. "The hag _did_ have a romantic streak."

She turned suddenly to Nyota and asked while Bahati was still in cull earshot, "So how are you and my son, eh? He seems calmer than the last time I saw him. Is he still strictly focused on getting laid? You know, I still haven't told his father about the incident with the contraceptive tincture, you know. I'd hate to see my boy get slapped in front of company."

Bahati turned, breaking off her conversation with Zuri in mid-sentence.

"What?"

"Ma," Nyota rushed to calm her, "it's not what you think."

"What's not what I think?" the older Uhura demanded. "You know, I knew! I _knew_ something was up that day you accidentally answered my call topless and—"

"Topless?" Amanda blushed deeply. "So…things _have_ progressed."

"Topless?" Zuri's mouth hung open as she struggled not to laugh. With her black hair pulled back like a school marm and her usual demure linen dress, Zuri was rarely one to indulge humor. In fact, _she_ was the one their parents had always guessed would hook up with a Vulcan, not Nyota.

Nyota drew upon every diplomatic course she'd ever taken. "Ladies," she said lowly, "let's not get carried away. Spock and I are _not_ having sex. We have made the conscious decision _not_ to have sex because we don't feel ready."

The mothers sighed in relief. Their collective breathing seemed to lift a weight off the entire room, but just when Nyota thought she was out of the woods, that evil older sister of hers ruined everything.

"But you had sex with _before_ you made that decision, didn't you?" Zuri inquired smugly.

Nyota's startled hesitation sealed her doom. Suddenly, it was as though her mother had multiplied, and now she had _two_ Bahatis railing at her.

"_Nyota !_"


	19. Chapter 19

**The "Talk"**

Funny, how in just seconds, Jim Kirk decided he hated Vulcan.

That "short walk" Spock had suggested not only took last at least thirty minutes, but took them northward _out_ of Shi'Kar (or at least, the Vulcan equivalent of "northward"), and into the razor sharp ravines of Pukhu* Valley. By the time they arrived at the Kahs'khiori** Memorial Grounds, Jim's clothes were soaked and salty, he was out of breath, and perfectly certain he was on the verge of complete lung failure.

Spock, in the meantime, hadn't even broken a sweat.

_Remind me to _never_ get into a fight with Spock_, Jim silently swore.

Sometimes, Jim wondered about his dear Vulcan friend. Did he do shit like this on purpose? Was he just showing off, pulling a "Look at me, look at me…I'm three times stronger, faster, and more resilient than you are"? Or was he being all innocent and Vulcan and thereby blissfully unaware of his friend's agony?

"This burial shrine is nine thousand years old," Spock told him suddenly. "My family acquired it two millennia ago. Normally, only those of our blood are buried here but Mioral was…special, to my father."

The shrine was simply built from wood and stone, and definitely showing its age, but it was sturdy nonetheless. The walls bore the names of fallen ancestors, and there were a few cracked and chipped busts on pedestals, no doubt honoring the ancient dead.

There were murals on the ceiling, but they were long faded. Spock pointed to them. "We would have touched up the artwork, but it's so old and so much is missing, our artists wouldn't even know where to start."

"It's beautiful," Jim whispered. A breeze blew, much cooler than before. When Jim looked out the nearest window, he saw the night had fallen, and though Vulcan had no moon, it had billions of stars to light its surface.

"Their tombs are over there," Spock pointed solemnly, and Jim didn't ask him to elaborate. He simply marched towards where his beloved lay in an amber-colored stone sarcophagus. He looked down at the intricately lasered Vulcan words and blinked in fleeting confusion.

Spock took that as his cue.

Softly, the Vulcan translated, "It says, 'Here lies N'Tal, daughter of the great Mioral. She who was deeply beloved, died with the utmost honor and loyalty to her kin, befitting a true warrior and daughter of Romulus.'" He hesitated before finishing. "Beneath that are words from the poem she gave you. 'Blow, blow, the battle horn…I will not mourn. For though the life is lost and ended, I am free.'"

Jim didn't see it coming. In all honesty, he hadn't known what to expect from N'Tal's tomb. He was suddenly transported back to the day he found her body, and heard screaming from the distance, not knowing until much later that it came from him.

Even now he heard sobbing, the raw sobbing of a bleeding, broken heart, and it sounded as though it came from a great distance. Only when the dry pain racked his chest, and his felt his friend's arm tenderly slip around his shoulders did he realize the sobbing came from him.

He didn't know how long Spock held or him, or how long he wept over N'Tal's sarcophagus, but he knew some time passed. His sweaty clothes dried, and his body slowly regained its strength after being drained during the long trek through the valley.

When he was calmer, feeling lighter, Spock took it as his cue to slowly lead him home.

* * *

…**meanwhile, under the stars….**

"Fascinating."

Sinoyal, son of T'Mina and Siyanal, and Spock's fifteen-year-old third cousin, marveled at the human girl sitting on his lap in the gardens. They had been "making out" for a long time now, and he found each kiss increasingly…agreeable.

Kamaria Uhura was a lithe young beauty, weightless in his arms, with skin as dark as wet earth, and starlit eyes twinkling with mischief. Her lips were soft and full, and her mouth tasted of some sweet flavor he couldn't name.

"Most fascinating," he repeated, awestruck by this new experience. "And you say this practice is common on Earth?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded cheerfully. "How do Vulcans make out?"

"We don't," Sinoyal answered honestly. "Our closest equivalent to a kiss…is _this_."

He touched his two fingers to her own, sending through them his deepest admiration and fascination with all the power of his mind. He could tell he pleased her by the way her mouth fell open in pleasant surprise.

"What was that?" she gasped.

"My mind," he explained lightly, "briefly touching yours."

Her eyes lit up so brilliantly then, as though he had shown her some great mystery of the universe.

"Do it again," she said suddenly, and he complied.

This time, her mind touched his lightly as well, filling his head with her attraction and all her curiosity.

_Fascinating_.

Sinoyal was beginning to see what Sarek and his son saw in humans; despite all their tangling masses of emotions, their incessant touching, their tendency to butcher even their own languages, their alien smell, and their highly impulsive natures, humans were surprisingly delightful creatures.

"I am torn," Sinoyal admitted suddenly, "between our way and your way."

Kamaria smiled deviously. "Wanna try both at the same time?"

* * *

Trapped like a frightened deer, Nyota Uhura's head swiveled back and forth between her mother and what now had become her other mother. Not since the day she'd been caught playing "show me yours" with a neighborhood boy when she was five had Nyota heard such yelling.

"You're the girl in this relationship—you should've _known_ better! You know a boy's gonna try, come hell or high water!"

"He talked you into it, didn't it? Made it sound 'logical' and 'essential.'"

"Is this how I raised you? 'Cause I don't recall breeding an army of hos in this family, Nyota!"

"He's gettin' smacked. My son is _sooooo_ gettin' _smacked!_"

"Are you pregnant? When was your last period?"

"When you two were on a break, did either of you sleep with someone else? If so, you both needed tested—_now_."

"Is that school of yours smart enough to hand out birth control? 'Cause if not, you best believe Miz Beulah's about to get some fever from me!"

"What the hell is what with that school, anyway? Whose ingenious idea was it to let fucking _teenagers_ sleep in each other's beds?"

Nyota blinked, stricken dumb. _Amanda Grayson just said "fucking." Spock's mom—the wife of Ambassador friggin'_ Sarek_—just said "fucking."_

_Kill me now_.

"Where is he?" Amanda railed suddenly. "Computer: locate my son right the hell now!"

A low, humdrum Vulcan computer voice replied: "_Spock is in the central library on the first floor_."

She whirled out before any of the Uhuras could stop her. When the door slid closed behind her, Bahati spun back to face her daughter.

"I can't _believe_ you let him touch you!" she cried, and Nyota could see the tears of fury welling up. "Haven't you learned anything from your older sister? Zuri never did this when she was your age—are you _trying_ to screw up your future?"

"Ma," Nyota's voice came out hoarse with emotion, "you don't understand what it's like."

"Hell, I don't!" her mother barked. "News flash, Ny: you're not the only girl who was ever sent to a coed boarding school. I remember all the pressures and all the hormones and I also remembered to _say hell no!_"

Nyota burst into tears and fired back without thinking. "Well, I'm sorry I'm not as perfect as you and Zuri! And why am I getting all the wrath? We all know Kamaria's easier than first grade spelling test. But you're not out chaperoning her right now, are you? You're in here, yelling at me after I've already told you Spock and I don't have sex anymore, while she's outside, all alone with a Vulcan hottie—_in a starlit garden!_"

Bahati's jaw hit the floor. "Holy shit," she gasped. "Kamaria!" It was suddenly her turn to flee the room to find her wayward child.

Zuri looked at Nyota, shaking her head in disgust.

"That was _low_."

"Oh, can it, Zuri," Nyota hissed. "That's how we handle things in this family, isn't it? When your back's against the wall, just redirect Ma's attention towards the next in line."

"I can't believe you gave it up so easily," Zuri chuckled. "I mean, he's cute, but he's not that cute."

"My friend was _dead_, Zuri!" Nyota barked suddenly. "Her corpse was found in a fucking _holodeck_. Her boyfriend—my other friend—was dragged screaming from the school like a lunatic. I was distraught and depressed, and no my decision-making was the best of my teenaged career, _but fuck you!_" She headed out of the room, ignoring Zuri's shocked look. "At least I _had_ someone there for me. When was the last time a boy stood by _you_, you cold, soulless, sanctimonious _bitch?_"

She stormed from the bedchamber before Zuri could reply. She had to find Spock. Now that he was back to being strictly Vulcan again, he wasn't even remotely prepared to handle what was coming.

* * *

It was Sarek's custom to light the alter candles in the middle of first floor library before sitting down with his cup of tea and his book. He had just lit the last candle when his son entered, his face impressively neutral of emotion and his movements properly graceful.

A warmth infused the old man at the sight of his youthful son, whose eyes were as his mother's.

"My son," he greeted courteously, "did you enjoy your walk? Did Mr. Kirk achieve his closure?"

"I think so," Spock replied. "Though I have found I'm not an expert in human mourning practices."

Sarek's lips twitched upward. In times like this, he knew Spock truly was his son.

He opened his mouth to voice a properly emotionless Vulcan statement of endearment when his wife suddenly stormed in. Amanda swept in like a furious desert storm, her long pale robes swirling behind her. She drew abreast of their son and without warning, delivered a resounding slap.

Spock's eyes watered immediately, more from shock and pain than emotion, while Sarek was openly appalled.

"Amanda!" the old man exclaimed. "That was uncalled for!" _Especially since we were about to have a moment_, Sarek didn't add. _We only get one every few years_.

"Your son has been having sex!" Amanda spat, as though the word were some sort of horrific blasphemy. "Did he tell you that? Did he tell you he's been corrupting an innocent girl?"

Spock blushed the darkest shade of green in his life, immediately forgetting that he'd just been slapped. Talking about sex in front of Sarek was worse than talking about Thuwak in front of his friends a thousand fold.

_Souls of my forebears…strike me dead now_.

"Fix this!" Amanda snarled at her husband. She looked at her son, eyes wild. "I can't even begin to approach this!"

She left as suddenly as she'd come, leaving son and father in the most awkward silence of their lives. Horrified, Spock turned to flee his father's presence when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"My son," Sarek breathed, keeping his voice light. "I think we should talk."

* * *

*Vulcan for "amber."

**Vulcan for "shooting star."


	20. Chapter 20

**Laying Blame**

"My son," Sarek breathed, keeping his voice light. "I think we should talk."

Though Spock sometimes secretly longed for his father's touch, as it was so rare, he stiffened at it now. Slowly, he twisted his body out from under his father's hand.

"That," he replied in a bitterly clipped tone, "would be unwise."

"You are a child, Spock," Sarek reminded him, his voice bordering on tender. "And as a child is unaware of much of the universe, it is only logical then to assume he will make mistakes."

At his father's gentle tone, Spock's eyes watered but he made sure not to look at the old man. It was permissible for Vulcans to have "moments," but only if they were carefully controlled.

"I know you would never force her," Sarek continued gingerly. "I know you would monitor the health of both of you. And…," here he trailed a bit, as though struggling to get the uncomfortable words out, "…if you two are enjoying yourselves—"

"We're not," Spock said quickly, still not looking at his father. Normally, he wouldn't _dare_ interrupt his father, but this was not a normal time.

"You're not?" Sarek blinked, confused. "Does the mechanism of mating confound you, my son? Because if you're not enjoying yourself, there are several ancient texts filled with highly agreeable suggestions. For example, your mother and I—"

"_We. Are not. Mating_," Spock bit out, correcting his father. He was shuddering with horror of the notion that his parents had sex, and that his father would even _think_ to give "examples" as "suggestions." Granted, it was the logical thing to do, but it didn't stop Spock from cringing.

"But your mother just said—"

"We were but we stopped," Spock clarified, suddenly sure he would never be able to look his father in the eyes again. "We realized we didn't love each other and that it was best to wait until we were older and better able to handle it."

Sarek beamed, or at least the Vulcan equivalent. "Such maturity at your young ages," he sighed. "My son honors me with his insightfulness and self-restraint."

As a Vulcan, Spock had always had trouble lying. That would explain why the next words passed his lips without the slightest thought.

"It was actually Nyota's idea."

"Of _course_ it was," the older Vulcan sighed wearily. "I tell you, my son, with all honesty…the ugliest words in any human language are when a female says, 'We have to stop.'"

_Now_ Spock whirled to gawk at his father.

* * *

…**meanwhile, out in the gardens….**

"Get away from my daughter," Bahati Uhura snarled, "before I rip off your head and hang it from my belt."

Sinoyal looked up at Kamaria's mother. In the starlight, garbed in pale robes and surrounded by the night-blooming flowers, she looked a sorceress from the ancient days. Sans the pointed ears, of course.

"Ma!" Kamaria cried, quickly standing up. "You can't talk to a Vulcan like that! They don't have comebacks! They think it's logical to use comebacks! Picking on a Vulcan is like picking on a little baby, and besides…we weren't _doing_ anything."

"Oh, no?" Bahati folded her arms across her chest. "That wasn't you I just saw now, sitting on his lap? That wasn't _your_ tongue jammed halfway down his throat?"

Kamaria's skin warmed and she looked downward. "_Mama_—"

"Don't you 'Mama' me, girl!" the older woman barked. "Both of you—bring your asses into the house _now!_" She snapped her fingers on the last word for emphasis.

She whirled around and led the way into the mansion, while the flustered young couple clutched hands (another thing Kamaria had taught Sinoyal) and followed her, maintaining a safe distance at all times.

* * *

Nyota had originally intended to find Spock. Unfortunately, her boyfriend's family was ridiculously rich and had been for some time now, because only a bored, crazy ancestor would have thought it wise to model the ancestral home after some bizarre, convoluted labyrinth.

She was initially searching for Spock. She found his mother instead.

Amanda was pacing one of the house's umpteenth libraries with what appeared to be a glass of scotch. Thanks to Scotty's in-depth education, Nyota could tell it was a double-malt just from the smell.

She tried to back out of the room before the older woman saw her, but she was too late. Amanda zeroed in on her like a hawk, stating in an iron tone, "Nyota…please stay."

_Fucking gods…kill me now_.

"Um…yes, Ms. Grayson?"

"I just wanted to say…I'm sorry."

Nyota blinked. Confusion was now starting to take over panic.

"Yes, you're the girl in the relationship, but Spock's the Vulcan. Of the two of you, he should have not only known better, but never wavered."

"Oh!" Nyota exclaimed, taking a single step forward in mild relief. She started babbling like a nervous twit. "That was my fault. I can be pretty convincing, you know, and once I got him going, getting him to stop was almost impossible—" Nyota clamped her hand over her own mouth.

_Oh my God…she thinks I'm a raving slut_.

Amanda _did_ look slightly alarmed, but composed herself eventually. "You're a teenaged girl—what you did is expected. However, he's a teenaged Vulcan boy, Nyota."

"He's also half-human," Nyota softly reminded her.

The reminder brought out a slight but distinct bitterness in the older woman. "Yes, yes, he's half human but he chose the Vulcan way. And Vulcan teens don't have sex, Nyota. They deal with the urges the same way they deal with everything else: through repression, denial, and lengthy meditation. The moment my son found difficulty resisting you, he should have sat down at his altar and not gotten up until he was sure he was under control." Amanda paused suddenly, and when she spoke, her voice came out softer than ever. "Did he hurt you?"

Vulcans didn't lie, Nyota remembered, but in their refusal to lie, they could not see its kindness. She and Amanda were human. They were allowed to lie.

"No," Nyota replied, making words sound as warm and as genuine as possible. If she could convince Amanda on this, then as a diplomat, she'd be able to negotiate on any planet. "Spock is very…tender and considerate. I guess it's the whole 'methodical Vulcan' approach. He sees things analytically, and enjoys new experiences."

There was genuine pain and concern in Amanda's eyes, along with a definite shred of fear. "So he didn't…lose control? Didn't…cause damage?"

Nyota's mind flashed back to their first time, to the savage growling, the bruising of her wrists and nether regions, and the feverish biting.

"No," she smiled sweetly. "Guess I have all that meditation to thank."

The computer suddenly beeped, and Sarek's calm but concerned voice drifted out over the intercom.

"My _wife, please come to the central library. We have a…situation_."

Both ladies explained disturbed looks before immediately heading out. Nyota followed Amanda through the tall, arching halls, down the stairs to the first floor. They entered the central library to find Sarek, Spock, Sinoyal, Kamaria, and Bahati all standing tensely. Nyota noticed Kamaria and Sinoyal (who _was_ strikingly handsome, by the way) were holding hands. Something about that bugged, but she was too distracted to focus on it.

"What's going on?" Amanda demanded.

Before Sarek could reply, Sinoyal proudly—or at least, the Vulcan version of "proudly"—announced, "Aunt Amanda, I have decided I want Kamaria Uhura as my mate."

"You can't have her as your mate," Amanda snapped. "You already _have_ an assigned mate—T'Neria, daughter of Simar and Mikanya—a _very_ noble family."

Kamaria blinked, her furrowing slightly. "The _Uhuras_ are a noble family," she mumbled. "We've got rich folk where we come from." Sinoyal gave her a considerate nod, before turning back to Amanda.

"My consent was not obtained for said assignment," he reminded her immediately.

"You were _seven_," Amanda growled. "It's tradition, remember? And before that ceremony, your parents spent _years_ trying to find an appropriate match!"

"They failed," Sinoyal answered simply. "I have known T'Neria many years and not once have I found her stimulating or interesting in any way. Furthermore, I find that I have certain requirements of a mate which T'Neria cannot fulfill."

Amanda was flabbergasted. "And what the hell could those be?"

Sinoyal practically beamed as he resolutely declared, "I require a mate who is willing to… 'make out.'"

"Oh, God." Nyota's head fell into her hands. She had known bringing her family to Vulcan had been just an all around bad idea. From the moment she'd stepped off the transport pad, it had been nonstop disaster.

_Spock's parents are_ never inviting _us back_._ Not when they've had to deal with Zuri, aka Vira 2.0, or me, the evil middle child who deflowered their purile son. Not to mention my idiot baby sister, who's playing friggin' home-wrecker with Spock's extended family._

Nyota shuddered.

_Yeah…we're_ **never** _getting invited back_.

"I need to sit down," Sarek announced suddenly, and wearily fell into the nearest chair. Spock went to stand next to him, almost protectively.

"Aunt Amanda," Sinoyal continued, "since you are my hostess this weekend, and the primary reason I met Kamaria, I would like you to stand with me with when I tell my parents."

"Absolutely not!" Amanda cried. "Are you out of your Vulcan mind? Your parents will _kill_ _me_ if you tell them about this. 'By the ears of Surak,' they'll say. 'We entrust our son with Amanda for _one_ weekend, and _she marries him off to a human!_'"

Next to Spock, Sarek rubbed his temples. Apparently, yelling wasn't common in Vulcan households.

Again, Nyota shuddered. We _brought this on them_, she thought drearily.

"Aunt Amanda, violence without provocation is illogical," Sinoyal shook his head dispassionately, "therefore your assumption my parents will cause you physical harm is fallacious. Besides, it's not as though marriage between a human and Vulcan is without precedent." His eyebrow raised smugly for emphasis.

The whole room seemed to groan; suddenly even Spock needed to sit down.

He took a chair near his father while Bahati collapsed into one across from them. Now it was her turn to rub her temples in defeat.

Amanda, in the meantime, was hell-bent on fighting the food fight. There was _no_ _way_ she was losing an argument to a fifteen-year-old who'd clearly abandoned all rationality in favor of thinking with his smaller head.

"Don't you dare," she hissed. "Don't you _dare_ try to hide behind that!"

"_Ambassador_," Sinoyal enunciated without even looking at Sarek, "is my logic sound or not?"

"Yes," Sarek wearily answered. "But do not try cloud so complicated an issue with such simple logic, my child."

"You just met!" Amanda threw her hands in the air, beyond bewildered. "_You just met!_ You haven't even _known_ each other for a full _day!_"

"And I had only known T'Neria moments before my parents decided to mentally chain us together for all eternity," Sinoyal fired back. "To simply cite tradition as the primary justification for such an important decision is illogical."

"Sinoyal," Amanda tried to keep her voice calm, "this will be the second time in less than a year that a member of our family has dissolved a perfectly good match with a noble house. Do you have _any_ idea what that will do to us?"

"But my aunt," Sinoyal readily countered, "you and the Ambassador are an agreeable match. From what I understand, Spock and Nyota are an agreeable match. Should this trend of marriage with humans continue, Vulcan-human prejudices will slowly—but surely—decrease.

"I should also inform you that this afternoon, I applied to attend Stellar Valley as sophomore next year with Kamaria," Sinoyal added, almost cruelly now. "One way or the other, I am _going_ to Earth. She and I are _going_ to be together." He turned to look at a beaming Kamaria, lifting her hand so they could so they could touch fingers. "This I promise you, _ashayam_."

Kamaria smiled brightly. "What does _that_ mean?"

"'Beloved,'" Nyota translated dully. "It means 'beloved' in Vulcan, Mari."

"Oh!" the fifteen-year-old squealed. "How sweet! Oh, I love you too…_ashayam!_"

Nyota stomach lurched. She clutched it and bent slightly over. "I think I'm going to be sick," she mumbled.

"You're not the only one," Spock grumbled.

Amanda was clearly at her wits' end. She tried to call for order. "Children, let's focus on the impending disaster, shall we? Sinoyal, Stellar Valley requires _tuition_. Your parents will never pay for it!"

"Stellar Valley also provides numerous scholarships which I'm certain I can acquire," Sinoyal countered once more. "And I understand the headmistress is eager to build up the Vulcan population at Stellar Valley, even if we all do end up in Laidley House. Besides, I've saved up sufficient allowance to book passage to and from Earth whenever necessary."

Amanda finally exploded. "Sarek, I'm going to kill this child!"

Sinoyal immediately looked wounded. "But Aunt Amanda, do I not have the right to choose my own mate? Am I not also deserving of the happiness you share with the Ambassador? Have I done something _wrong_ here by making this decision?"

"I'm not condoning this," Amanda shook her head. "When your parents come for you tomorrow evening, you're own your own."

She turned and fled the room, leaving everyone else to witness the blossoming romance between the clueless two.

"I should show you my bedroom," Sinoyal announced excitedly. "The balcony has a romantic view of Pukhu Valley. When the starlight hits the amber geodes of the ravines, it makes the whole area glow in the dark. It's what humans would consider romantic." His lips twitched upward in self-satisfaction. "We should try making out there next."

Bahati's head snapped upward. Energized, she flew to her feet at once, ready and more than willing for Round Two

"The _hell_ you will."


	21. Chapter 21

**Playing with Fire**

"Your cousin wants to _what?_"

"Seriously, Jim," Spock sighed, "I don't want to talk about it. I'm exhausted and the memorial dinner is tomorrow. When Sinoyal's parents and all the other guests arrive, this family better get it together otherwise we will be the laughingstock of all of Vulcan."

While the ladies all had their own rooms, Sarek had found it logical to room the boys (except for Sinoyal) together. Spock now had to share his old room with Jim, and ever since Jim had showered and gotten his tears out, all he wanted to do was talk.

They lay on the dark bed together, surrounded by all his things. Most of the furniture and drapery were blue and black. Everything else was either polished wood or glazed stone. It was too an elegant a chamber for a youth, but Jim wasn't complaining.

Cheerfully, he asked, "How do you think his parents will react?"

"They're going to kill my mother, Jim."

"Seriously, bro."

"Seriously? _They're going to kill my mother_, Jim."

Jim let out a low whistle. "Well, damn. Who would've thought this weekend would become this exciting. How are you liking your in-laws?"

Spock sighed wearily. "They're not my in-laws, Jim."

"But they will be."

"You don't know that."

Jim snickered, "Is all this objection coming from the fact you're starting to think this whole you-and-Nyota thing is a mistake?"

"Nyota and I aren't a mistake," Spock yawned. "Kamaria and Sinoyal, on the other hand, are a disaster waiting to happen."

"Why?" Jim snorted. "What makes you and Ny so special?"

"Nyota and I went on dates, Jim," Spock sighed, growing irritable now. "We've argued, I've seen her cry, we've split up, and we've had friends to counsel us. And even after all that, we've never talked marriage. Kamaria and Sinoyal are playing with fire. Now can we get some sleep?"

"Sleep?" Jim exclaimed. "Who can sleep at a time like this? We should head downtown. What are the bars like on Vulcan anyway?"

* * *

Kamaria Uhura sighed softly as she drifted off to sleep. Her windows were open, letting the cool night breezes blow through her filmy curtains and wash over her skin. There was a monastery nearby; she could hear the distant chanting of its residents carried to on the wind.

She felt like a princess here on Vulcan. Since the moment she'd arrived, Sarek and Amanda had showered her with gifts. She'd worn beautiful robes all day and spent all her time in either gorgeous buildings or exquisite gardens. Was this what marriage to Sinoyal would be like? Surrounded with all this ancient and exotic beauty? Where his parents as wealthy as the Ambassador? Was their house also this big, and if she married their son, would she and Sinoyal inherit it all?

These exciting thoughts staved off sleep; Kamaria lagged leisurely on the borders of the dream world indulging fantasy after fantasy.

But after an hour or so, into the calm and cool came searing heat.

She felt it on her neck and on her chest. It was very close and very real, and yet it seemed to come from a distant at the same time. She felt as though the breeze was pulling her nightgown apart, unlacing the bodice and baring her skin to the wind, before rapidly replacing it with splotches of raw, searing heat.

Confused, she slowly stirred awake.

"Sinoyal?"

"Mari," he murmured, nuzzling her neck, "we have to keep quiet."

"What are you doing?"

"You're my mate," he reminded her. "Or at least you're going to be. Our families can't keep us apart." He kissed her deeply, more deeply than in the garden, and he pressed against her more firmly.

As pleasurable as it felt, Kamaria sensed something was wrong.

Some instinct told that even though it was Sinoyal kissing her, he wasn't all _there_. There was much more passion than before, so much more heat and need and demand…it wasn't like him. His kisses rapidly grew to a feverish level, and he ripped away the last of her nightgown in obvious impatience.

"Sino," she mumbled, trying to pull and gather her rapidly diminishing wits, "why are you so sweaty?"

"Heat," he murmured in return. "My homeworld is warm, is it not?"

"But it's cold outside now," Kamaria insisted. She started to offer mild resistance, pushing him away and trying to look at him. He was shirtless, which was flawless, but he was sweating so much—and slightly shaking—that Kamaria knew something _had_ to be wrong.

"Do I please you?" he asked, misunderstanding the way she looked over his half-naked, sheen-covered form. "On Vulcan, we work to be fit every day from childhood."

"Sino," Kamaria frowned slightly with worry, "I think we should talk to Spock's parents. You look—"

"No!" he said forcefully, emotion brazenly displayed across his face. "They'll only be upset I came to your bed. Just…," he kissed her neck, "just let me have you. I couldn't sleep tonight. I read and watched everything I could find in the Ambassador's database on human mating rituals." He hotly kissed her mouth before finishing, "It got me extremely…'worked up.'"

"And this is…normal for your people?" Kamaria asked between kisses. "Excessive perspiration—"

"—is merely a part of arousal," he assured her, pushing her back down onto her back. "Just relax. You may be surprised to find my people make good lovers."

He kissed her over and over again, murmuring about mates and beautiful offspring. Their touching grew increasingly intimate; he pried her knees apart and stroked her until she was moaning into his mouth and lightly dragging her nails down his back. When he pressed his groin against hers, she gasped at how blessed he was. Kamaria fleetingly wondered if it was simply a Vulcan thing.

Sinoyal used many Vulcan terms, and though she didn't know them, she echoed them. Her speaking Vulcan spurred him on, which was fine until he suddenly bit so deeply into her shoulder she cried out in pain.

"_Computer: Lights_."

The couple broke apart at the sound of a new voice, and sat up to see a not-so-amused Bahati Uhura in a night robe with her arms folded across her chest.

It was fortuitous that she arrived when she did; Sinoyal had been in the middle of unfastening his pajama pants, no doubt to loose something best left contained.

"She's my mate," Sinoyal said defensively. "I am permitted this."

Bahati disagreed. "Boy, what the hell did I tell you not three hours ago?" When Kamaria tried to speak, her mother shut her down. "Asses out of bed _now!_"

As the two fumbled clumsily, with their nightclothes, Bahati sealed their embarrassment.

"Sarek and Amanda, please come to the second-floor sitting room of the guest wing. We have a situation."

Elsewhere, in the master bedroom, the couple groggily turned to look at each other in bed, chorusing, "Again?"

* * *

Sinoyal sat shirtless on chair with a huge silk cushion covering his groin, while Sarek took his temperature and check his heart rate. The whole household was out of bed, and all the guests were too confused to be mortified this time.

Spock and Amanda, however, stood by tensely, careful not to look at each other. They instead watched Sinoyal, who continued to sweat and shake uncontrollably.

Sarek stood up finally, sighing wearily as he put his tools away. The old man's findings made him look grim.

"You have triggered his mating instinct," he told Kamaria.

Kamaria blinked in confusion. "I've done what?"

"You've caused him to go into _Pon Farr_," Nyota said softly, "the Time of Mating."

Zuri suddenly felt the need to weigh in. "By the look of him, he's already being plagued with the _plak tow_, the blood fever. If we don't fix this soon, Mari, he could die within a week." All heads looked at her in brief surprise, before turning back to the crisis at hand.

"Impossible!" Sinoyal snapped, not even bothering to repress his emotions. "I'm only fifteen! Just give…me my mate and go back to bed! All of you! This is not your concern!"

"You actually think that's going to happen?" Bahati snorted.

"She is mine!" Sinoyal snarled at her. "I have rights to her! Just…_give her to me!_"

Bahati snorted once more. "Ain't happenin'."

"But he's so young," Spock gasped softly. "He's _too_ young, Father."

"It's been known to happen at this age," Sarek said gently. "And when it does, it is easier to correct than you think." He turned to Sinoyal, speaking calmly but firmly. "I have to take you to the monastery in Pukhu Valley. One of the elders there will do a mind meld to…reset your body, in a manner of speaking."

"He could meditate the urge away," Spock said suddenly.

"He's too young," Amanda shook her head. "He doesn't have the discipline or the psychological strength to withstand the urge. There are Vulcans in their hundreds who can't withstand it. The Vulcan libido, unlike the human libido, grows stronger with age, not weaker."

All the Uhuras looked her way. "Seriously?" they chorused.

Jim looked at Spock, who blushed so darkly he actually looked sick. "Seriously?" Jim murmured. He was rewarded with a scathing look.

"I don't understand any of this," Kamaria said, brow furrowed in worry as she grew increasingly unnerved. "How could I have caused this?"

"Your intimate behavior no doubt confused his body into thinking it was time," Sarek told her honestly. "This is what we meant when we said your joining would be 'complicated,' Miss Kamaria."

"_Pon Farr_ is _very_ serious, Mari," Amanda added firmly. "If your mother hadn't caught you, the violence which often comes with Vulcan mating could have made him accidentally kill you."

At Kamaria's dropped jaw, Zuri hurriedly added, "But he'd feel really sorry about it afterward!"

Nyota looked at her elder sister in growing alarm. What she didn't realize was that her mother was staring at her.

"So how come this didn't happen to Ny and Spock?" Bahati demanded.

"A number of things," Sarek shrugged lightly. "His human blood may have thinned the urge a bit. His extra two years of age may also be a factor."

"Th-Th-This is l-l-ludicrous," Sinoyal protested, fully emotional now. He was sweating and shaking harder now, causing Sarek to hurry to a console, no doubt to send a message to the monastery. "I-I-I am n-n-not g-g-going through _P-P-Pon Farr_."

Nyota's eyes widened. "Did he just stutter? Is Sinoyal _stuttering?_"

The young Vulcan blushed beneath his sweat. "Ch-Ch-Childhood p-p-problem."

Jim raised an eyebrow at Spock. "So…he's a stutterer. You're a lisper. Is there some family gene your father neglected to warn your mother about?"

"Go to hell, Jim," Spock answered simply, going to sit next to his cousin. "_Be calm, little brother_," he tried to soothe Sinoyal in Vulcan. "_You will be well come tomorrow_."

"An elder has agreed to assist us," Sarek announced finally. "Computer," he called, going to Sinoyal's side and lightly touching his shoulder, "two to transport to the designated coordinates."

When the two dematerialized, Spock mumbled miserably. "We're never going to get any sleep, are we?"


	22. Chapter 22

**Things to Do When You're Stuck on Vulcan**

"Double _raktajino_, double hot."

Spock was bleary-eyed, deeply regretting inviting Nyota's entire family to his planet. He would have just brought her, but his mother had talked him into doing otherwise. It had taken them forever to get to bed, with Bahati yelling at Kamaria, Zuri and Nyota arguing, and Jim sulkily bitching about not being taken out to a bar his first night on Vulcan.

Around 0300 hours in the morning, Sarek had contacted Amanda to say Sinoyal's _Pon Farr_ had gone into remission, but that they'd have to stay overnight for observation.

"Dude," Jim snorted, exiting the bathroom, fresh from a hot shower and toweling his sandy hair, "how can you drink that shit? It's like, _noon_."

"If we hadn't been up all night, I wouldn't need this 'shit,' Jim."

"You jerk off in your sleep, you know that?"

The Vulcan's snapped his way immediately, eyes bright with alarm. The Iowan, in turn, laughed heartily before relenting, "I'm just fucking with you, bro. _Lighten up_, Spock," he added laughingly, when his friend scowled deeply. "Your cousin is fine, and we have hours 'til the memorial dinner. Let's hit up a bar. I wanna meet some Vulcan chicks."

"Vulcans don't _have_ bars, Jim," Spock announced finally, delicately sipping his steaming hot coffee and turning away from his bedroom replicator. "And a person doesn't 'meet chicks' on Vulcan. We have teahouses where people get together to play chess and debate philosophy and cosmological and/or mathematical theory."

The human shuddered. "What…_else_ is there to do on Vulcan?"

Spock sighed, still weary. "You have your choice of libraries, lecture halls, temples, _Suus Mahna_ clubs, music competitions, and opera houses."

"So this planet," Jim blinked, "is, like, one giant _school?_"

Spock nodded slightly. "You honor us with that comparison."

"Oh. Hell. _No_, Spock," Jim shook his head. "That won't do at all. There's got to be something naughty and forbidden and fun buried on this planet _somewhere_, bro."

The Vulcan shrugged. "If there is, I've never heard of it."

Jim Kirk flashed his signature wicked grin. "If there is, _I _can find it."

* * *

"The memorial dinner starts at 2000 hours," Amanda announced over breakfast. The women were deliberately eating without the men this morning, and that didn't slip by Nyota. Instead of speaking, though, she kept her head down as she buttered her toast and diligently prayed to every god in the Federation that her family behaved for the rest of the weekend. "It's taking place in the Hall of Twelve Crowns in the Shi'Kahr Town Square. All the arrangements have been made, so we don't have to worry about preparations."

"Well,that gives us several hours then," Bahati exclaimed cheerfully. "We've already done the marketplace and State Museum—we do you suggest we do today, Amanda?"

"There is a lovely temple dedicated to one of Vulcan's oldest goddesses," Amanda suggested, and here Nyota noticed the woman wasn't making eye contact. "T'Masu* is her name; she's a sort of water deity—'Aqua Dea Vulcana,' she's called on Earth. The priestesses there have wonderful…activities for young women. I suggest we take the girls there."

"And the boys?" Bahati asked, still smiling brightly.

Nyota twitched. _It's a_ _setup_. _My mama honestly thinks that after all this time as _her_ daughter, I can't smell a setup coming miles away_.

"Well, Sinoyal returns later this afternoon with Sarek," Amanda, sounded more and more rehearsed with each sentence. "Sarek has to go into town to oversee the final preparations for the dinner, but he plans to send the boys to the Three Rings Teahouse. There's a chess tournament scheduled for this afternoon."

At first, Nyota was a bit miffed at the gender segregation. It wasn't _her_ fault her little sister was easier than a sixth-grade mythology test. This growing lack of trust was becoming very frustrating.

But _then_…Nyota pictured Jim Kirk trapped in a teahouse full of Vulcans during a chess tournament, and suddenly she had to work very, very hard to keep from laughing aloud.

* * *

Jim Kirk looked into the fairly quiet central hall of the teahouse where several Vulcans of all ages were paired up and deeply immersed in chess games—_Vulcan_ chess no less. The floors were wooden and ancient, as were the intricately carved walls. The furnishings were very, very simple, with wooden chairs and carved stone tables.

There were no replicators in the central hall; for concessions it appeared there was only a really old man touring with an equally old metal tea kettle. Everyone was wearing some variation of gray, black, olive green, and ivory, and _every_ single male was supporting the same stupid haircut.

Jim shuddered. _No wonder Spock grew his hair long and dyed it_.

"So…Hell," he grumbled bitterly, "how _lovely_ to see you."

"This wasn't _my_ idea, Jim," Spock replied lowly, barely moving his lips.

"No, but it _is_ his fault," Jim shot Sinoyal a furious look. "All that Vulcan discipline and repression, and you _still_ couldn't keep in your pants for _one night?_"

Sinoyal blushed deeply, looking at his feet. Ever since the mind meld, Spock had noted how much gentler and meeker his young kinsman seemed.

"I-I-I n-n-never h-had an ex-p-p-perience like that," Sinoyal confessed. At his own stuttering, the fifteen-year-old flushed even darker.

"And what is with your family and speech impediments?" Jim demanded suddenly. "Is it something inherited along with your taste for human pu—"

"_Jim_," Spock interrupted sternly, "we're in a teahouse, not your dorm room. Some of our planet's greatest minds—and _most_ respected elders—come to this teahouse. If you don't behave, then we'll turn around, go home, and spend the rest of the afternoon in one of my father's libraries studying quantum physics."

Jim blanched. "I'll be good," he promised. "I swear."

"Good," Spock nodded stiffly. "Now, these teahouses always have private chambers. We can use the room my father keeps reserved. He had a replicator installed."

Jim and Sinoyal followed Spock dutifully through the pairs of battling minds into a decently sized chamber lined with cushion-heavy seating. The windows were draped with matching silk of pale olive green, and Jim was grateful for the privacy…and the replicator.

"Vulcan port," he ordered immediately, "aged three hundred years." He didn't miss how Spock and Sinoyal winced.

A glass of ominously dark blue liquid appeared, and Jim took the first sip. Bravely, he resisted the urge to shudder violently.

"So," he started grimly. "How do we break out of here without your father ever knowing?"

"We don't," Spock replied strictly. "There's nothing wrong with three friends enjoying some peace and quiet while playing a game of _kaltoh_—"

"These old teahouses are equipped with transporters for emergency evacuation," Sinoyal suddenly, with just the barest catch of excitement in his voice. "We can acces the main computer and initiate transport to a discrete location, and go from there."

At his kinsman's reproachful look, Sinoyal blushed and lowered his gaze.

"Jim," Spock said, armed with his best no-nonsense voice, "this ends _now_. You will _not_ make mischief while we're visiting my father. My house has had enough excitement already, thank you."

"Fine, fine," Jim relented, raising his hands in defeat. "_Kaltoh_ away." He returned to his glass of dark blue Vulcan death.

The table was apparently a holoprojector which produced the kaltoh set. Right away, Spock and Sinoyal went to work and to Jim's horror, he could tell they were actually enjoying themselves. After several, agonizingly slow minutes, Jim heard Spock actually ask his kinsman, "How is your mind?"

"My mind is well," Sinoyal nodded slightly, eyes focused on the game. "The elder worked with me for a long time. I feel more in control of myself."

"Did you sleep?"

"Yes. I dreamt of nothing."

Jim cringed. It was like hearing two humans talk about the weather.

But then…young Sinoyal came through….

"Spock, I sent a message to my parents about Kamaria. I've told them I want to dissolve my bond with T'Neria."

Spock's head snapped up and Jim had to keep from grinning. _Oh…thank __**God**_.

Suddenly, Jim liked being on Vulcan again. He was once more so very glad he'd agreed to come on this trip. It was like drama followed Spock no matter where the Vulcan went.

"You can't be serious," Spock stated, clearly alarmed. "You can't possibly want to mate with Kamaria after only knowing her for a day."

"Spock," Sinoyal began, and Jim noticed a subtle weariness in the boy's voice, "I find my current assigned mate to be most disagreeable. T'Neria is frigid and dull. I am not looking forward to being her mate."

"You will develop affection for each other when you're mated," Spock tried to assure his kinsman. "You need time and patience."

"I've _had_ time and _given_ patience, Spock," Sinoyal shook his head. "I've known T'Neria since we were seven. I go the same academy as she, been on the same debate team as she. We've taken lyre lessons together, attended many _kaltoh_ tournaments together. Since we were twelve, we've attended forty-two operas together and…_nothing_, Spock. I feel _nothing_."

"A true Vulcan feels nothing, my cousin," Spock replied grimly. Jim blinked. Was that…_envy_ he heard in his friend's voice?"

"Your statement is inaccurate," Sinoyal said softly. "My parents care for each other deeply. Your father, one of the greatest men of our time, cares for your mother deeply. You and Nyota care for each other deeply, and I am certain you will for many years. Is it wrong to feel this way?"

Jim was deeply touched to hear these words from a Vulcan. Ironically, it was Spock who ruined the tender moment.

"Do you want to hurt Kamaria?" he demanded suddenly, startling his young cousin. Even Jim winced at the bite in Spock's words. "Because that's the price we pay when our kind _feels_ too much, Sinoyal."

"But _you_ never hurt Nyota," Sinoyal protested, and Jim immediately caught the subtle lowering of Spock's eyes, as though the older Vulcan were suppressing feelings of shame.

Jim's whole body tensed. _I don't know what went on between those two, he thought grimly, but do I know now they've been lying to us all_. He twitched irritably. _When Spock was complaining about not getting any, he carefully neglected to mention this_._ I would've told this asshole to keep his barbaric hands to himself!_

For the first time ever, Jim felt his respect for his friend plummet. Jim had bedded more than his share of girls, but he always taken care to never harm any of them. He felt a wave of fury on behalf of Nyota; all this time he'd been encouraging his friend to get what he desired, insisting that Nyota was being controlling and selfish.

It had never once occurred to him even once that Mr. Superior Strength had actually harmed his girlfriend.

_And she's been covering for him—this whole time!_

"I will admit I was behaving rashly yesterday," Sinoyal went on, "but I had a long talk with the elders and I've learned some things about myself. I still believe that—"

"I've hurt Nyota before," Spock confessed quietly, eyes down and body tense. "And it wasn't the _Pon Farr_ that made me do it. It was me…just me."

Deathly quiet filled the room of the teahouse.

Spock finally mustered the strength to look his cousin in the eye. "That's the secret, dirty shame of our people, Sinoyal. Along with the birthright of great strength and speed and agility comes the dangerous desire to use them inappropriately. My body didn't need the burning of _Pon Farr_ to make take what I wanted the _way_ I wanted—unlike you, I didn't have the excuse of an overwhelming instinct. My logic was still sound. My thoughts were still my own. I was conscious and cogent when I sank my teeth into Nyota's skin, tasting her sweet red blood…of which I enjoyed every. Single. Moment."

Sinoyal was pale as death now, staring at his cousin in abject horror. Jim figured that to the boy, hearing this was like hearing Surak was a lying heretic.

"You are young, Sinoyal," Spock sighed, "even younger than I. I know what you're going through. This desire you're feeling, this burning urge to indulge the forbidden—it's temptation, that's all. Our people are above that. We embraced logic so as to control these urges, not be ruled by them."

"I'm _not_ ruled by my—"

"A _day_, Sinoyal," Spock silenced the fifteen-year-old. "You met Kamaria a _day_ ago and already you're trying to change schools, disrupt your family, and abandon a perfectly good girl simply because you tasted flesh, touched skin." He shook his head. "Stay on Vulcan, Sinoyal. Bond with T'Neria. You may feel apprehensive of it now, but you will be very grateful later. Shame and regret are among the worst emotions to experience, cousin. _I would never wish for you to know them_."

* * *

_Oh, gods…kill me now_.

Not only was Vulcan hot as hell, it was…well, _hell_.

At first, Nyota had been excited about the temple of T'Masu. Set in one of the few oases on Vulcan, it was different from other temples, carved from stone instead of wood. There were giant fountains of female deities, and crystal pure flowing water was visible from every point in the temple. There were artificial waterfalls built inside the temple, and every prayer, chant, and conversation was backed by the sound of delicately flowing water.

The priestesses were beautiful, garbed in pastel linen robes, with white flowers braided into their long dark hair. The older, gray-haired priestesses wore ocean blue robes and pinned their hair up with silver clasps and pearl-like gems. At all times, it seemed, Nyota could hear a soft, sweet lyre playing in the distance.

She'd sighed blissfully in the beginning, as had both her sisters. Indeed, there was paradise on Vulcan.

But then they met T'Minnia, the High Priestess.

A Vulcan…well over two hundred, T'Minnia walked with an ornately carved cane disguised as a regal scepter.

"You are the wife of Sarek," she greeted Amanda. Her thick, rolling accent reminded Nyota of N'Tal. "You bring guests to the house of T'Masu. We are honored."

"Your Eminence," Amanda bowed politely. "These are the ladies of the Uhura family, from Earth. Madam Uhura here wishes for her daughters to attend the afternoon seminar."

"Seminar?" the Uhura girls chorused. Nyota's eyebrow went up immediately.

_I knew it_, she tensed. _It_ was _a setup!_

"Yes," T'Minnia nodded. "Every afternoon, our younger priestesses have a seminar on chastity."

"_Chastity?_" the girls exclaimed together. The two older sisters whirled on Kamaria, forming a small huddle, and their younger sister withered beneath their scathing glances.

"Why are you two looking at me?" she mumbled uncomfortably.

"Need you even ask?" Zuri snapped. "This is all _your_ fault. We're here because of you! I could be at a chess tournament right now!"

"But instead, we have to listen to some self-righteous virgin chicks drone on all afternoon about _not_ having sex!" Nyota rasped, working to keep her voice low.

"What's wrong, Ny?" Kamaria snorted. "Did I ruin your and Spock's weekend plans?"

"_Ny_ wasn't the one necking with the Ambassador's cousin all afternoon yesterday!" Zuri hissed.

"Remind me to _so_ kick your ass when we get home," Nyota growled.

"Ladies!" Bahati Uhura called cheerfully. "Your guide is here!"

Slowly, the Uhura girls turned to meet their fate.

* * *

***_Masu_ is "water" in Vulcan**


	23. Chapter 23

**The Dance of Three**

(**A/N**: _This chapter would have never happened had I not read a certain post written by aquasoulsis. If you haven't read it, stop, go to her LiveJournal, and read it now. For readers on FF, I want to dedicate it to [I believe] LadyFangs_.)

Spock turned so green Nyota was briefly concerned.

"My mother made you attend a chastity seminar at the Temple of T'Masu?" he asked tightly.

Nyota didn't bother replying. Behind on Spock, on the settee in one of Sarek and Amanda's nine thousand sitting rooms, Jim Kirk was laughing so hard and so loudly she doubted she'd be able to hear herself over him.

The couple watched the Iowan's eyes water heavily while he roared. When he was finally gasping for breath, Nyota answered her boyfriend.

"No, Spock; _our_ mothers made us go," she clarified. "Thanks to _our_ mothers, we spent all afternoon listening to a _sweet_ young girl named Sakonna talk about how _not_ screwing our brains out is a superior lifestyle. How did she put it? Oh, yes, 'Copulation for purposes not directly related to procreation is merely an indulgence. It is a counterproductive expenditure of valuable energy.'"

Jim roared, while Spock flushed again. "That _is_ one of the many lifestyle recommendations prescribed by Surak himself."

"It didn't end _there_, Spock," Nyota snapped. "We then learned that our…_ keshtan-urs _are priceless and sacred gifts from the gods, and should be guarded as we would our very lives against the mindless savagery of males."

Even as Jim laughed, he said, "Now see, I resent that."

Nyota wasn't finished. "Sakonna then invited us to join her order when school lets out this summer. She wants us to spend _three months_ in deep meditation on the spiritual aspects of celibacy! And what's worse, my older sister nearly accepted!"

"Zuri?" Spock's eyes widened. Behind him, Jim started laughing all over again.

"Well, she _is_ the Vulcan in the family, Spock," Nyota shrugged. "Think of Vira Zwan without the clumsy charm, or the nerdy energy, or even the ability to raise her body temperature. Zuri _never_ dates, and even though she's already nineteen, she absolutely _refuses_ to have sex until she's married."

Jim's laughter abruptly ended. "What?" he asked suddenly.

Nyota's eyes narrowed immediately. "Don't even _think_ about it. My sister is not a challenge. And besides, you nailed Number One at the height of her iciness—I think you filled your 'cold fish' quota for the year, James."

"Maybe a continued stay on Vulcan would be good for your sister," Spock suggested. "I am sure there's a suitable school for her. And she seems to know a lot about us."

"Maybe," Nyota sighed wearily. "Everyone always figured _she'd_ be the one to bring home a Vulcan, not me."

Amanda's voice came over the intercom. "Kids! We have an hour 'til the dinner! Get ready already!"

The teenagers split up, scurrying to their rooms. The humans had all agreed to shower and scrub themselves raw with mint sponges to keep their odors from offending Sarek's guests. They all decided to dress Vulcan. The boys wore pitch black robes, and Jim complained the collar was too restrictive. The girls donned pretty pastel robes while their mothers dressed in elegant grays and pale olives.

When everyone was dressed their best, the group transported to the foyer of the Hall of Twelve Crowns, which was so tall and so massively built the humans all gasped.

The floors were white marble, the walls painted with detailed exquisite murals, depicting the exploits of long-dead kings and queens. There were statues of ancient gods and goddesses carved from some blood-red rock the humans had never seen before. They'd been carved so meticulously they looked alive.

"This is stunning," Nyota gasped. "The detail, the intricacy…."

"The state owns this hall," Amanda explained, "but when it came to building and furnishing it, the whole planet contributed. The idea behind it was to inspire Vulcans not to reject their ancient heritage, but instead to avoid the errors of their forebears."

"It took my people only three years to complete it," Spock added. "Our artists worked round the clock."

"Over twelve thousand years ago, Sasan was the King of Twelve Crowns," Sinoyal explained to the human guests. "The Lord of a Dozen Thrones. Legend has it he acquired his twelve kingdoms by slaughtering each one's king and marrying his widow. Unfortunately, after they were wall bonded to Sasan, each of the twelve queens grew jealous of the other and went to war. Their bloodshed devastated the land."

"They say," Spock added with a raised eyebrow, "Sasan's tale was one of the first reasons why our species became strictly monogamous."

All the humans laughed. Spock noted how Sinoyal watched Kamaria, and it made him twitch. The boy was just as fascinated with her as he had been the day before, as though absolutely nothing the past twenty-six hours had sunken in.

He could understand though. Like her sister, Kamaria's laughter was music, and her smiling face was utterly angelic.

Spock sighed. How could he preach to his young cousin when he himself was plagued with the same problem?

"All right," Amanda called for order, "we're the honored guests, which means we enter the dining room before everyone else. Where's Sarek?"

"Here, my wife."

Everyone's breath caught as the Ambassador majestically swept forward in brilliant robes of gold, vermillion, and scarlet. For an old man who hadn't gotten any sleep the night before, he looked stunning.

His two aides and guards followed closely behind him, but did not introduce themselves.

Amanda warmly smiled at her husband. "And the Romulans, _ashayam?_ Did they arrive safely?"

Sarek nodded. "Mioral's old friends are performing the Romulan Dark Moon Ritual here in the Hall. They will honor his soul one last time before they join us in feasting.

"You will sit at the north end of the table, near me," Sarek informed them. "My aide will show you the way when the time comes. In the meantime, Sinoyal, your father is here, and…he has brought T'Neria with him."

Spock watched his cousin's face blanch and immediately sympathized with the child. Sinoyal looked as though he'd been told the date and time for his own execution.

"T-T-T'Neria is h-h-h-here?" he sputtered, clearly unruffled.

"You'll be fine," Kamaria assured him kindly, making sure not to hold his hand or touch him in any way. "Surak teaches us that the heart is a highly malleable part of the self. '…therefore, he who loved once shall love again.' It's only logical." She tacked on a proud nod of self-satisfaction.

Even Surak was impressed. "A mature and perceptive statement," he commended her. "You honor us, child." Kamaria beamed brightly, as though she'd won the lottery. Sarek looked at his wife, eyebrow raised. "Temple of T'Masu?"

"Temple of T'Masu," Amanda nodded.

"I see," the Ambassador mused. "Sinoyal, perhaps you should introduce Miss Kamaria to your future wife, and explain to T'Neria the…misunderstanding."

Kamaria beamed even more brightly, while Sinoyal now looked deathly ill. Spock felt for his cousin; it was no doubt painful to hear his life be planned and dictated by others with neither his input nor consent.

The group left the two teenagers alone, confident they wouldn't do anything stupid in the crowded Hall of Twelve Crowns. Almost a split second after they left, Kamaria heard a bitter voice behind her.

"_So_," a female voice spat, "this is the miserable _komihn_ you would dare to trade me for."

Kamaria whirled to see a very beautiful young Vulcan girl dressed in pale pink, her long braided hair adorned with pearls and flowers. She had very dark olive skin, and eyes the color of polished amber.

They spewed fire from an otherwise neutral and impassive face.

"_Komihn?_" Kamaria blinked.

"'Human,'" Sinoyal translated, his whole body tense. "T'Neria, I can explain—"

"No need," his future wife snorted, "I already know. Rather than rise above your shameful urges, you'd rather find a soul-sucking _pash-yel_ to help you indulge them. You're a _disgrace_, Sinoyal!"

Kamaria looked at him. "_Pash-yel?_"

"'Black hole,'" Sinoyal winced.

Kamaria grinned broadly. "Oh, my! I'm getting quite an education, aren't I?"

"T'Neria," Sinoyal swallowed tightly, "Kamaria is not at fault here. There is no reason to insult her so."

"And besides," the cheerful human shrugged, "Surak teaches us that indulging anger is counterproductive. Conflict is best resolved through calm rational thought, and the methodical application of logic."

Both Vulcans were staring at her now; Sinoyal looked as though he didn't even recognize her.

"Temple of T'Masu," Kamaria chirped, blowing on her nails and rubbing them against her chest.

"And how would you resolve our conflict with your…wisdom of T'Masu?" T'Neria demanded suddenly, each syllable laced with sarcasm. While Sinoyal twitched at her tone, her coded venom went right over Kamaria's head.

"Well, let's factor in all the variables," the human smiled brightly. "You still want Sinoyal for a mate. Sinoyal, however, wants a mate who will please him in certain ways. The logical course, then, would be for you to learn some of those things."

Both Vulcans blinked, before looking at each other.

"It does seem…reasonable," T'Neria grudgingly replied. "As mates, we would be permitted to share with each other…whatever we see fit."

Sinoyal's panic immediately switched to excitement. "Kamaria can teach us!" he suggested quickly. He looked about himself. "But she would have to show us it now; she leaves for Earth tomorrow evening."

T'Neria nodded stiffly. "Very well then."

The trio searched the rapidly emptying hall for a room no one seemed to be using. Kamaria found one near the dining hall, but the Vulcans hesitated.

"This is the most logical choice," she insisted. "It only has one door, and we can everything going on next door, in case someone comes looking for us. The first step to sneaking around behind the adults' backs is to _always_ have your bases covered."

T'Neria was skeptical. "'Sneaking around?' That sounds like mischief. Mischief is counterproductive and therefore illogical."

"_Mischief_ isn't the word you're looking for," Kamaria assured them. She hastily urged the two inside. The room was dark, except for a corner where large green seating cushion was stuffed. A ray of evening light slipped through the high windows, thinly pooling upon the soft fabric.

"Don't turn on the lights," Kamaria told them. "You two are unfamiliar with each other's bodies, and so you'll be shy." She shooed them around the center of the room to the dimly corner.

"Okay, Sinoyal," she instructed, "you sit on the cushion, and T'Neria and I will sit on either side of you."

The Vulcans obeyed. Already Sinoyal could feel his skin warming with tingling anticipation, while T'Neria's remained cool, and her face slightly confused.

"Kamaria," Sinoyal said, "explain 'making out' to T'Neria."

"The first part," Kamaria began seriously, suddenly a dedicated instructor, "is to kiss with your mouths. You part your lips and massage each other's tongues with your own."

T'Neria looked offended. "That sounds highly unsanitary!"

Kamaria raised an eyebrow. "You know of the _Pon Farr_, right?"

T'Neria flinched at the open utterance of that forbidden term, but nodded nonetheless.

"Did you know that sometimes Vulcans bite each other so hard they draw blood?" Kamara demanded strictly.

T'Neria was appalled. She looked to Sinoyal for confirmation, which he gave by blushing darkly in the pale sunlight.

"So if you think _saliva's_ gross…." Kamaria deliberately trailed off, shrugging easily.

"I see your point," the Vulcan girl replied coldly. "So how do we…how does one begin…?"

"Sinoyal," Kamaria said professionally. "Kiss T'Neria, just like I showed you."

Even sitting, the Vulcan youth was taller than both girls. He gently pulled T'Neria's head towards him, dipping his own to meet her lips. They started out awkwardly, with T'Neria being stiff, cold, and uncomfortable, but slowly, the deep, diligent strokes of Sinoyal's tongue persuaded her, and soon the two were kissing quite tenderly. After a few moments, they broke apart and looked to Kamaria for approval.

The glowing human clapped her hands excitedly. "Excellent!"

T'Neria's skin was flushed, her face warm. "That was…stimulating," she mused, gently touching her swollen lips in wonder.

"Tell her what's next, K-Kamaria," Sinoyal stammered slightly, his breath coming a little fast. He already quite aroused, but thankfully, T'Neria had noticed yet. Her head would probably explode from terror.

"Touching!" Kamaria cheered.

T'Neria was confused. "But we're _already_ touching."

Kamaria laughed. "No, no—I mean _touching_-touching. Like, each other's skin, each other's…chests."

T'Neria gasped, scandalized. She protectively crossed her arms over her chest. "But no!"

"Neri," Kamaria shook her head dispassionately, "you're just going to have trust me if you want to get through this. The next time your man goes all _Pon Farr_ on you, _I _won't be here to take care of business." She wagged her finger sternly at the Vulcan girl. "And I seriously doubt whatever Jedi mojo the old monk-man worked on Sino won't fix it twice in a row. Auntie Amanda says the Vulcan boner only gets bigger with age."

T'Neria looked torn; she was clearly frightened and confused, yet determined to see this through rather than bear the shame of being replaced by a human. "You first," she shakily ordered Sinoyal.

Eagerly, the Vulcan youth unhooked his collar and pulled off his outer robes, revealing splendid olive-skinned muscles, drawing a gasp from both girls. At their reaction, his lips twitched upward.

"Now you," Kamaria encouraged T'Neria. But the poor girl, both appalled and amazed, stood as still as a statue.

"I can't," T'Neria shook her head, eyes beginning to well up.

"Kamaria," Sinoyal said lowly, working to keep from stuttering, "it is logical that you demonstrate this for her. Once she sees it, her trepidation is likely to lessen."

Kamaria sighed like weary old matron. "Granted," she said, as she unhooked her outer robes, "I haven't done anything like this since sixth grade—and vowed to never again—but I guess desperate times call for desperate measures."

Her pale robes slipped to the floor, revealing flawless dark skin and perky breasts. Eagerly, Sinoyal leaned to kiss her mouth, her chest, while he fondled her chest. Next to them T'Neria gasped as their intensity mounted.

When Sinoyal attempted to slip his fingers between Kamaria's legs, she stopped him, pulling back and resuming her role as teacher. With a remarkably cool demeanor, she turned to T'Neria and said simply, "Your turn."

T'Neria excitedly slipped out of her robes, baring flawless, dark olive skin and equally perky breasts. But alas, her Vulcan mind worked too literally; instead of practicing with Sinoyal, she turned and embraced Kamaria instead, pressing her chest against hers and planting a very passionate kiss on her mouth.

Sinoyal's jaw dropped.

He'd read about this, about the effects of same-sex intimacy on a third-party viewer. But he'd never imagined it could be so stimulating. He was too aroused now to feel jealous or left out; he simply watched, spellbound and awestricken.

Kamaria pulled from T'Neria suddenly, and it now her turn to stammer. "No, N-Neri. I meant Sino. Make out with _Sino_."

T'Neria nodded dutifully and turned to a mesmerized Sinoyal. She pressed against him hungrily, kissing him feverishly as some age-old instinct took over.

Kamaria took this as her cue and began to dress. Sinoyal's free hand flew out and stopped her.

"Stay," he breathed loudly. Beside him, T'Neria nodded avidly.

"I find your presence…agreeable," she added breathlessly.

Kamaria sighed. "Sixth grade all over again," she mumbled, but acquiesced nevertheless.

The three were soon kissing and touching whatever skin was bare, regardless of whom it belonged to. Fully worked up now—but not to a dangerous level—Sinoyal started to tear at the girls' remaining clothing.

All of a sudden, an austere foreign voice stopped them with a mere two words.

"_Computer: Lights_."

The dark was suddenly flooded with golden light, revealing the entire Romulan delegation. Apparently, they had been standing there in the same room—in the dark—the whole time.

Sinoyal winced, suddenly remembering the Ambassador's words.

_Mioral's old friends are performing the Romulan Dark Moon Ritual here in the Hall. They will honor his soul one last time before they join us in feasting_.

Indeed, the delegates were robed regally in black robes embroidered with sparkling gold thread. Each Romulan carried it black eagle's claw scepter with black globes set in gold. Their brows were elegantly tattooed with shimmering gold ink and they looked like a clan of mighty sorcerers.

T'Neria lowered her head, trying not to cry. She'd been shamed twice already this weekend, and this time she had no one but herself to blame. She had allowed herself to be talked into revealing her flesh to her future mate before they were officially bonded.

Sinoyal shuddered beneath the curious gazes of the Romulans. This was the second time he had attempted to indulge his base urges and had gotten caught. And this time by intergalactic diplomats at Ambassador Sarek's memorial dinner.

There were no words to fully express his shame

Kamaria Uhura, however, had a more…_human_ attitude towards the situation.

Crossly covering her breasts with her slender arms, she irritably scowled at the silent Romulans.

"Oh, great," she mumbled. "Does this mean I have to go back to chastity camp?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Men and Women, Regardless of Species**

…**one hour after the dinner….**

The Ladies

"What were you _thinking_, Kamaria?" Nyota exploded, clearly on the verge of pulling out all of her hair. She paced the guest wing sitting room like a madwoman, while Zuri, Bahati, and Amanda sat wearily in chairs, rubbing their temples, completely unable to muster the energy to argue with a fifteen-year-old tonight. The last time they'd done that, no one in the whole house had gotten any sleep.

Kamaria wasn't impressed by her sister's show. Had it been Bahati, it might have been another story. However, since it was Nyota…not so much.

"I was _trying_ to save their marriage," the younger girl replied stubbornly. "It appeared to be the most logical course of action."

"Having a _three-way_ at an intergalactic state dinner was _logical?_" Nyota roared. "Exactly in which universe does that make _any_ kind of sense?"

"We didn't go all the way, Ny," Kamaria corrected her sister. "I was just showing them the ropes so that they don't get divorced or dis-bonded or…whatever."

"How can you be so calm about this? You really don't get what you've done, do you?" Nyota wrung her hands in exasperation. "T'Neria's life is _ruined_. You dishonored the entire Romulan delegation. Sinoyal is probably getting grilled right now by _both_ his father _and_ by Sarek. This isn't like Earth, Mari—you can't apply what's normal for human teens to Vulcan teens—it doesn't work!"

"Teens are teens, regardless of species, Ny," Kamaria snorted. "You of all people should know that by now. And for your info, we didn't offend the Romulans. They were actually quite amused." She folded her arms defiantly over her chest. "At least _someone_ has a sense of humor about all this."

"Kamaria," Nyota rubbed her temples, "this isn't _funny_. This isn't _cool_. You _seriously_ messed up back there and you should so grateful the Romulans didn't out you to the _entire_ roster of guests!"

"Ny," Kamaria shook her head wearily, as though she were the old sister doing the lecturing here, "you just don't get it. Everyone was so mad at me for wrecking Sino and Neri's marriage. Sinoyal suggested this and it seemed logical."

Amanda's head snapped upward suddenly, and she stared Kamaria in shock. "Sinoyal? Sinoyal suggested that you…?"

"De-mon-strate," Kamaria enunciated slowly, "so that he and Neri could learn how to _hook_ up instead of _break_ up." She sighed loudly, finally out of patience. "And voila—it worked. They like each other now and they both said they can't wait to get married."

"Dear God," Zuri groaned. "I think you just earned yourself an _entire_ summer at the Temple of T'Masu. I think you should be roommates with Sakonna herself."

"And under normal circumstances, that would be an excellent idea," Bahati spoke finally, her voice starting out low and dangerous before rising to furious and shrill, "except the gods*, in their…_infinite_ humor, saw fit to bless me with the _only child_ who could _ever_ get into trouble on _Vulcan!_" Bahati was on her feet in a flash, towering above her now-cowering youngest daughter. "I can't take you _anywhere!_ I can't even trust you around _girls!_ It's sixth grade _all over again!_ Tell me something," Bahati demanded, "where did I go wrong with you? Did I not show you affection?"

Shaking in her chair, Kamaria meekly answered, "Yes, ma'am."

"Did I not take care of you, give you a good life?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Is your father not a good daddy?"

Kamaria sniffed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Then what the hell is wrong with you? No," Bahati cut her daughter off, when Kamaria tried to reply. "Don't answer that. I've already got this shit here figured out. See when we get back to Earth, _you're_ getting home-schooled—_period_. You can _forget_ all about going to Stellar Valley next year. And Kamaria? We're going to be on Vulcan until tomorrow evening. If you cause any kind of trouble—_any kind of trouble whatsoever_—I will send you to live with my _hag_ of a mother-in-law. And when that succubus is finished with you, you'll _never_ look at another boy again!"

Bahati stormed from the room before Kamaria could protest, leaving the child to burst into tears.

Nyota immediately felt sorry for her. She was, after all, just a child.

"I-I-I was j-j-just tr-tr-trying to h-h-help," Kamaria sobbed, wiping her eyes. "I-I-It m-m-made them h-h-h-happy."

"Oh, calm down," Zuri snorted. "Our mom can't stand to watch you for five minutes, much less tutor you for five hours a day, Mari. As soon as this all blows over, things will go back to normal."

"I'm still on the whole 'it was Sinoyal's idea' thing," Amanda blinked. "My God—it's like Spock last semester all over again!"

"Like I said, Ny," Kamaria bitterly scowled at Nyota, "_**regardless of species**_."

* * *

The Gentlemen

Commander Ketal of the warbird _Cahltur_—and one of the late Mioral's oldest friends—stared at the young, blushing Sinoyal with brazen awe.

"Unbelievable," he gasped for the thousandth time this evening. Ketal, Sarek, Spock, Jim Kirk, Sinoyal and Sinoyal's father Siakan were all in the central library of the first floor. Everyone was sitting but Sinoyal; he stood like a young man on trial.

"I beg your forgiveness, Commander," Sinoyal mumbled miserably. "I have brought great shame with my offense."

"Offense?" The graying Romulan raised an eyebrow. "What offense? My dear Vulcan cousin, to whom do you think you're speaking? Is it _logical_," he asked, clearly amused, "to assume a man who has seen hundreds of cherished men die and battle-scorched lands could _possibly_ be offended by a child's blunder?"

Sinoyal blushed again.

"Unbelievable," Ketal shook his head again. "Simply unbelievable."

"If my son's behavior was not offensive, Commander," Siakan raised an eyebrow, "then to what are you referring as 'unbelievable'?"

"Your son," Ketal smiled broadly, "talked both a chilly Vulcan maid and a highly rational human female out of their clothes— at a state dinner in a public hall, no less—and all he used…was _logic_." Without warning, the Romulan threw back his head and laughed heartily. Next to a very stiff and on-edge Spock, Jim Kirk indulged a chuckle or two.

"Have you ever considered going into politics, boy?" Ketal asked Sinoyal jovially. "Aye, there are many a place for the likes of you in the Empire."

Sinoyal merely flushed, properly keeping his gaze lowered.

"That shy, innocent face," Ketal snickered, "the low, humble voice…all backed by razor-sharp wit. I tell you, Siakan, you just say the word and this boy will be enrolled in the most prestigious political schools on Romulus."

Sarek and Siakan exchanged looks. It was the Ambassador who spoke first.

"Are you saying…he could have a career?" Sarek raised an eyebrow. "On _Romulus?_"

"I swear on the tomb of the great Mioral himself," Ketal nodded, "that if you give me half the chance, in less than one week's time, this child will be participating in mock debates before the Senate itself."

Siakan looked at his son, and Spock could tell the old man was trying to keep his eagerness masked. "What do you say, child? Would you like to attend school on Romulus? Would you find a future in Romulan politics…agreeable?"

Sinoyal's eyes widened, hinting at his pounding heart. "Only if I could keep T'Neria as my bond-mate," he nodded resolutely.

Siakan shrugged, but only slightly. "I would not object to your taking a Romulan bride, my son."

Sarek weighed in. "Such a marriage would work to your favor, child."

Ketal shrugged. "Your firstborn son could be the next Praetor."

"But I have insulted T'Neria and her family," Sinoyal answered stubbornly. "This is the least I can do to make amends, Father. Please allow me to be honorable once again."

"Will he be safe?" Spock asked pointedly.

"Spock!" Sarek immediately chided.

Spock went on as though his father hadn't spoken. "Because the _last_ time my father showed friendship towards a great Romulan, he wound up dodging an assassination, which his friend unfortunately did not survive." The young Vulcan cocked his head to side for emphasis. "I would find it most disagreeable for harm to come to so young a cousin of mine."

"Spock!" Siakan rasped, displaying the only slightest hint of anger.

Ketal was not offended; in fact, he grinned proudly at Spock and laughingly replied, "Sarek's family breeds strong men indeed. Mioral spoke truth! Blessings to our Forebears—there is still rebel blood on Vulcan yet!" He raised his goblet of Vulcan port to Spock. "I swear on my life and the lives of all my relatives," he loudly vowed, "no harm will come to a kinsman or friend of the great Sarek." A tinge of bitterness crept into his voice. "Never again." He drank the Vulcan port deeply, without flinching, causing Jim's jaw to drop in awe.

"Now," the gregarious Romulan continued, "it is time for me to depart. My warbird awaits!"

Siakan walked the Commander out to the transport pad while Spock whirled on his father.

"Sinoyal isn't even remotely prepared for Romulan politics," he stated boldly. "They may be our kin, but they are _not_ us."

"Romulus and Vulcan need each other," Sarek shook his head wearily. "Our peoples have been apart too long."

"Besides, cousin," Sinoyal added softly, "it is illogical to expect a harmonious and productive future with Romulus if we are unwilling to sacrifice in the present."

Jim whistled lowly. "Boy does know his stuff. Besides, what's fiery Romulan passion compared to cool Vulcan logic?" The human shrugged. "I think he's going to kick ass on Romulus."

"He won't be safe," Spock shook his head. "It wasn't just Mioral the assassins targeted last time. Being a kinsman of Sarek is not going to _help_ Sinoyal in any way."

"Your statement is inaccurate," Sarek cut in calmly. "Mioral was a great diplomat, but he had many enemies in the Romulan Senate and the military. They considered him a 'loudmouth radical,' if you recall. _Ketal_, on the other hand, has served in the Romulan military for the past eighty-seven years. He has been decorated hundreds of times, and he commands the unconditional loyalty and admiration of several military officers and politicians. In short, he is revered throughout the Empire."

"So," Jim reasoned, "if Sinoyal goes to Romulus with Ketal, no one will dare to touch a hair on his head. He'll be safe, Spock," he assured his friend.

"I hope so," Spock replied. "Because, Sinoyal, Romulan politics is cutthroat. Our distant kinsmen are ruled by their passion; it is the very backbone of their society. Their city life is wild, and their overall culture is vastly different from ours—even their sense of honor. T'Neria may not want to reside in such a world."

* * *

Ladies and Gentlemen

"T'Neria's dissolving our bond."

The datapadd slipped from Sinoyal's hands onto the breakfast table with a dull thud. The teens were eating separately from the adults this morning, as the latter felt they desperately needed a break from the former.

"What?" Nyota demanded, snatching it up and skimming the letter. She winced at its content.

"She says she is grateful for this weekend's experiences," Sinoyal continued in a daze, numbly taking a seat next to Spock and staring ahead into nothing. "She assures me she harbors no ill will and that—" and _here_, Sinoyal distinctly stiffened, "—we can still be friends."

"_Ouch_," everyone else cringed, except for Spock. He merely looked his cousin over grimly.

"Do her parents know what happened at the Hall of Twelve Crowns?" he asked mildly.

"No," Sinoyal replied. "She hasn't told them. I don't think she plans to."

Kamaria beamed. "Lying by omission, huh?" She giggled gleefully before spearing another waffle. "There's hope for her yet."

"She plans to stop by this afternoon to say farewell," Sinoyal sighed. "Her parents will probably marry her off to some aristocrat."

"That should make her happy," Zuri shrugged. She poured herself some more mint tea. "What about you? You've already had human and Vulcan; are you switching to Romulans next?" she snorted.

"Hey, Romulan chicks are hot!" Jim objected. "Sinoyal, lighten up. You're flying first-class to another world, going to a prestigious school, and you've already got a glorious career mapped out for you. If you _do_ breed the next Praetor, drop me a line will ya?"

"Actually," Sinoyal began in that soft, low voice of his, "I'd rather follow my kinsman's footsteps and become an Ambassador." He gave Kamaria a quick, shy look. "And I still wouldn't mind marrying a human."

Kamaria flushed under her dark skin. "Aw, thanks, Sino. That's very sweet. I wouldn't mind marrying you either, _ashayam!_" Pause. "It _is_ pronounced '_ashayam_,' right?"

"Of course, _ashayam_," Sinoyal replied. "_Always_ my _ashayam_."

Nyota rolled her eyes wearily. "Not this again."

Spock set down his fork and knife. "I suddenly find myself not hungry anymore," he announced tightly.

Zuri tossed her hands in the hair. "This is ludicrous! Has the weekend from hell taught you two nothing?"

"Wait a minute now," Jim cut in suddenly. He gave Kamaria a very grave look. "Mari, would you seriously consider becoming his mate?"

The girl nodded avidly.

"Because if you're going to be the mate of an Ambassador, a public diplomatic figure, you're going to have to be more like your Auntie Amanda," he warned her, raising a stern eyebrow. "So that means you can't be the girl who takes her clothes off in a public hall or who makes out with complete strangers, understand?"

The older Uhura girls were quiet, suddenly in awe of Jim Kirk. Kamaria looked at him seriously, actually listening and nodding along with what he was saying.

"Now," Jim continued with his surprisingly paternal tone. "Your main man here's gotta travel to another world to get his education, just as you do. _Both of you_," he added archly, "keep your clothes on and your hands to yourselves while you're apart. That means when you're at away school, you _study_. You write to each other every day, and when you get to see each other, _legs stay __**closed**_, children."

"They still have to get approval from their parents," Spock reminded him. "I doubt Bahati and Siakan will agree to this."

"Oh, I think they will," Jim nodded slowly, soberly. "'Cause see, there's something going on here which I think we all missed. For these two, it _has_ been the weekend of hell, and yet they still want each other. They're due for separate planets, but they're _still_ talking marriage. Believe it or not, ladies and gentlemen," Jim chuckled, shaking his head, "we are witnessing true love…at first sight."

Kamaria beamed brightly at Sinoyal, who tried to restrain a smile (he failed). As if on cue, the two happily reached across the small breakfast table, and eagerly touched fingers.

* * *

**_*That would be you all._**


	25. Chapter 25

**Makin' Deals**

"So…what's the final arrangement?" Jim asked as he, Spock, and Nyota sat down aboard their transport and gratefully took off for Earth.

"Kamaria will be moving to Vulcan this summer to begin study at the Temple of T'Masu," Nyota replied, talking as though she were in a dream. "My father is on a transport en route to Vulcan now to meet up with my mother and discuss things in person with both of Sinoyal's parents. They will dissolve the mental bond Sinoyal has with T'Neria and reestablish it with my sister. _My sister_, of all people." She chuckled humorlessly, like a crazy person. "This is actually _happening!_"

"Why does she have to stay on Vulcan though?" Jim raised an eyebrow.

"Because she's marrying a future public figure," Spock explained. Though he worked to keep his voice calm, he too was clearly flabbergasted by the past three days. "In ideal situations, mates are prepared for such a life. My mother never got the opportunity to prepare for a life with my father, but Kamaria will for Sinoyal. She's going to study Vulcan and Romulan language, history and culture, as well diplomatic theory. My father will tutor her himself."

"Why did Sinoyal's parents say yes?" Jim blinked. "That doesn't sound very Vulcan to me."

"For them it was the most logical course," Spock shrugged slightly. "The Romulans have developed a fondness for my cousin, while my parents have developed a fondness for Nyota's sister. Sinoyal's parents want to stay in favor with both Sarek and Ketal. This seemed to be the most efficient way to accomplish that."

"They _like_ my sister?" Nyota exclaimed.

"There's a saying in Shi'Kahr that 'the House of Sarek is seldom quiet,'" Spock sighed. "With my family, there's always…something. This weekend may be by far the strangest they've ever experienced, but it's nothing new. We are no strangers to scandal or public attention of any kind."

"You're celebrities," Jim snorted.

Spock looked at him coldly. "_That_ was cruel."

"Poor Zuri," Jim laughed. "She's the Vulcan in your family and yet she's the only Uhura unable to hook a Vulcan!"

"Maybe not for now," Nyota sighed. "But she has talked about coming to study on Vulcan next year."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Temple of T'Masu?"

Nyota shook her head. "Shi'Kahr University. She wants to major in philosophy and become a mistress of _kaltoh_." She rolled her eyes. "All my family's moving to Vulcan, it seems."

"Fair's fair," Spock said. "_I_ left for Earth, after all. My parents will no doubt be glad to have children in the house again. When my mother writes me, she complains the house is so empty. And besides, when Sinoyal comes home to visit, she'll be able to keep a strict eye on those two."

"If she's smart," Jim snickered, "she'll _never_ let them out of her sight. She'll make them sleep on opposite sides of the planet if necessary. My, my, my…tangled web, huh?" Jim Kirk grinned broadly, happier than he'd ever been. "I mean, there we were on Vulcan, and neither I nor my family caused any trouble." He didn't miss the couple tense in front of him, and reasoned now was as good a time as any.

"So," Jim winked, "how's it feel taking a walk on the dysfunctional side, eh? 'Cause we've got _all_ the good elements of a skanky romance holonovel right here. We've the young, impulsive, home-wrecking vixen. We've got the hot-blooded groom who steps out on his future bride. We've got the interspecial love, the kinky three-way love, some girl-on-girl love, some Romulan voyeurism love—my, my, my…what juicy stories I will have to tell when we get home. Not to mention all the deep dark tales from sixth grade…I mean, Kamaria with her sexual experimentation and you with the Bow-legged Boogie—"

Spock and Nyota spoke at the same time. "What do you want, Jim?" they demanded bluntly.

Jim snorted. "You _know_ what I want."

Nyota was defiant. "Ain't happenin'," she shook her head.

"Look here, kiddos," Jim replied honestly. "I'm not going into the most brutal simulation at Stellar Valley High with Hikaru telling me to fuck off whenever I give an order or Lenny bitching about how he plans to a doctor and 'not a something else'—_screw that_. I'm going to need someone _competent_ on that bridge who will have my back. Now, if memory serves, after three days-ish of drama, _I_ was the only person who could talk some sense into those two crazy kids. I did that—just my words and I." He leaned in for emphasis. "Imagine what my words and I can do when once we get home?"

"Fine," Spock bit out. "You want a First Officer? I submit my candidacy."

"Done!" Jim chirped.

"Spock," Nyota gasped, "you can't!"

"The _Serengeti_ simulation is unwinnable, Nyota," Spock reminded her. "Once those holodeck doors close behind me, my fate is as sealed as everyone else's."

"But Miz Beulah!" she cried.

"The Headmistress won't mind," Spock assured her bitterly. "And if this is what it'll take to _shut Jim up_, then so be it."

"And you better not slack off once the simulation starts," Jim warned him. "Don't you dare do anything to try to give your woman the advantage."

"Nyota doesn't need my help," Spock replied acidly. "She's trained harder and longer than anyone else for this simulation. You were doomed the moment you went toe to toe with her, Jim, and my presence on your bridge _won't change a damn thing_."

* * *

…**meanwhile, back on Vulcan….**

When T'Neria arrived at Sarek's house, she wasn't at all upset or angry in anyway. In fact, she appeared absolutely cheerful (for a Vulcan anyway). She met the family and their guests during evening tea out in the garden, just before the sun went down.

"Thank you for having me, Ambassador," she said to Sarek. "It was an agreeable visit."

"Will your parents be…all right?" Amanda asked awkwardly.

"My parents will be fine," T'Neria assured her. "I have told them that I too wish to dissolve my bond with Sinoyal, as I would find life on Romulus most disagreeable." She bowed her head slightly. "The souls of Forebears work in mysterious ways."

"I'm sorry I derailed your wedding plans," Kamaria apologized, and Bahati noticed how careful the girl was to not mention her own. "I didn't mean to shame you."

"Do not be troubled," T'Neria assured her. "My parents will find me another mate, and this time, I will assist them. It's only logical."

"Logical indeed," Kamaria nodded, smiling brilliantly.

T'Neria leaned in suddenly and kissed her on the mouth. It was a chaste kiss, but that didn't matter. Kamaria knew she was going hear as soon as the Vulcan girl dematerialized.

"Goodbye, Kamaria," T'Neria said tenderly. "Travel safely." She turned and left Kamaria to her fate.

The poor human girl turned slowly, wincing at the looks on everyone's faces, including Sinoyal's. _He_ was particularly miffed.

"She bids you farewell…," he frowned slightly, "and yet has no words of affection for me?"

"I can explain," Kamaria shakily began.

"Don't even bother," Bahati snapped. "_Never_ tell me what happened in that chamber." Kamaria winced.

"Remind me to tell the sisters of T'Masu to lock you in your room at night," Amanda added. "And keep you electronically tagged at all times.

Kamaria felt she was out of the woods. She went back to reclaim her seat by Zuri, who was clearly struggling with her urge to laugh. But just as she grabbed the back of her chair, Sarek himself weighed in.

"Were it not for your earthy complexion," the aging Vulcan murmured, "I would swear you were of Orion descent."

* * *

They silent trio arrived on Earth in time for dinner. But once they stepped off the school's transporter pad, the three hurried their separate ways through the white halls of Stellar Valley, as though suddenly unable to look at one another.

Nyota was grateful for the coziness of her dorm room, with its purple bedcovers and matching rugs. Vira Zwan, her nerdy Trill roommate, was already in her pajamas, getting some studying done. She glowed brightly when Nyota came through their bedroom door.

"Ny!" she cheered, bounding off her bed to help Nyota with her bags. "How was your trip?"

"In three days," Nyota sighed wearily, "our families risked intergalactic scandal, Spock's fifteen-year-old third cousin earned the respect of a Romulan delegation after they watched him he talked his way into a _threesome_—he's now en route to Romulus to begin a prestigious career in interplanetary diplomacy, by the way—_meanwhile_, my younger sister completely wrecked a potential marriage, and then walked away with aforementioned cousin as her new husband-to-be."

Vira fell onto her bed, eyes wide. "Wow," she gasped. "But seriously, Ny…what happened on Vulcan?"

"Seriously?" Nyota exclaimed, before collapsing onto her bed.

Vira's dark eyes got even wider. "_No way_," she gasped. "Kamaria's…getting _married?_"

"Not right away, of course," Nyota yawned. "She has to move to Vulcan and learn Vulcany stuff—blah, blah, blah. Bottom-line, she's working on becoming Amanda Grayson version 2.0, while my older sister is transferring to Shi'Kahr University to become, I dunno, the next T'Pau or something. And, oh yeah, we didn't get any sleep the first night because Kamaria and Sinoyal—Spock's cousin—were messing around so much it triggered his _Pon Farr_ years ahead of schedule, right after my mother found them in bed together."

Vira's threatened to burst from her skull now. "_Woooooow_," she whispered. "You actually _saw_ the _Pon Farr?_ What was it like?"

"_Scary_," Nyota answered honestly. "Spock's cousin was sweating and shaking like a fucking plague victim." God, it felt good to cuss again! "And all the while he had this _huge_ boner he was trying to hide with a cushion—_fail!_" She crawled under her bedcovers. "That was a mile-high tent right there; I'm guessing it just runs in the family or something. So anyway, Sinoyal kept screaming for us to leave him and my sister alone. He got so horny and emotional he even started stuttering, because apparently, Spock isn't the _only_ one in his family with a speech problem."

"Amazing!" Vira exclaimed. "So how…I mean, did they…?"

"_Nooooo_," Nyota shook her head. "Over my mother's dead body! Sarek took him to a monastery where some elder managed to make it go into remission. When _Pon Farr_ happens this early—even if the patient enters the _plak tow_—an elder can use a mind meld to 'reset' the body. It's actually quite fascinating."

"I'll bet!" Vira laughed. She flashed a wicked grin. "Was it sexy?"

"V," Nyota sighed, "he's my _fifteen_-year-old soon to be _brother_-in-law. When I saw him, he'd just been pried off my naked sister. So no," she shuddered, "_not_ sexy."

"You know what I meant," the Trill teased. "What if that had been _Spock_ sweating and shaking, so furiously aroused and only days from death…and the only thing which could save him was a sexual marathon with you?"

_Oh_. Nyota felt a lower tightening which she hadn't in a while. She'd forgotten how good it was. It made her think back to the days when she'd first met Spock, and his mere uttering of the word "logical" was enough to throw her entire body out of whack.

"Well, yeah," Nyota muttered, "that _would_ be kinda hot. I think if you catch it early, it's not so bad. Like it's milder somehow."

"Don't kid yourself, sweetheart," Vira snorted. "_Pon Farr_ lasts for _days_."

_**Oh**_. Nyota swallowed. She'd forgotten about that.

"So you and Spock didn't get any alone time?" the Trill inquired.

"None," Nyota sighed. "There was always…something." She paused, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "Vira? What's all the sex talk for? I mean, last I checked, you were busy doing, not hypothesizing. I mean, you know I'm celibate, and you've had Hikaru to yourself all weekend—"

"Oh, yeah," Vira tittered sheepishly. "About that…um, well…Hikaru and I kinda broke up."


	26. Chapter 26

_…**And Out to the Wilds**_

* * *

Nyota felt her heart stop at Vira's announcement.

_I don't want to deal with this_, a part of her thought. _I'm fresh off the boat from Vulcan and I don't want to hear this right now_.

"You and Hikaru _what?_" she heard another part of herself ask allowed. Her inner part snorted, hardly amused. _So much for not wanting to hear about this_.

"Well," Vira began nervously, "the thing is…I won't be here next year."

Nyota sat up in bed at once. "_What?_"

"There's this school," Vira tried to explain, "on Trill. It is to the Symbiosis Committee what Stellar Valley is to the Academy. I can start early on working towards becoming joined. Which means," she continued lowly, "I won't be at the Academy the year after that either."

"_**What?**_"

"Ny," Vira pleaded, "please don't get mad. The thing is, I'm a Trill and I want to be joined. That means more to me than anything—_anything_. Hikaru and I aren't mad at each other, and we are still speaking and all but…after the simulation we'll all be really busy with classes, and then end of the year exams and come summer I'll be leaving Earth anyway so—"

"_**WHAT?**_"

"Nyota," Vira sighed. "Please try to understand."

The African's eyes narrowed as she said dangerously, "It's Pavel, isn't it? He talked you into this, didn't he? He probably forwarded you the link to that damn school's database!"

"Ny—"

"He's _thirteen_, V!" Nyota roared suddenly. "What is it with girls this weekend? How come you all are being talked into dumb shit so easily?"

"_Nyota_," the Trill said sharply, "it was _my_ choice! Look, the Valley has been nice. But I've outgrown the Valley. There's so much more important stuff than boyfriends and gossip and hacking into holodecks—you've said as much yourself. We're kids, but we're not _kids_-kids anymore, Ny. We have to start thinking of serious things."

Nyota fumbled out of bed, unable to think straight. She couldn't hear this, not a single word more. Vira was leaving the Valley, and it made Nyota's heart want to implode.

No sex with Spock, she could handle.

Her sister being a ditz, she could handle.

Her mother telling repressed childhood horror stories to Ambassador Sarek himself, even _that_ she could handle.

But a dorm, a school, even a meal without Vira? _Unbearable_.

"I can't be here," Nyota mumbled in a daze, escaping the room. She never knew when she'd gotten so attached to the Trill. She could remember the moment which created such a deep affection for Vira.

_She's Zuri, but fun and charming. She's Kamaria, but with wisdom and foresight._

_She's the very best of_ both _my sisters, and…she's leaving me_.

Nyota stumbled through the blinding white walls of Stellar Valley towards Laidley Hall. She rode the turbolift in a dreamlike state and walked like a zombie until she got to Spock's room. He was alone, meticulously unpacking and organizing his things. Nyota watched him for a moment, thinking of how long it had been since they'd touched each other, and how they hadn't had even a single moment alone on Vulcan.

It would be nice to press against his warmth again.

"Vira is leaving," she said finally, her voice soft and fragile. "She's going back to Trill."

"So Hikaru tells me," Spock nodded, folding his shirts.

"Is he upset?" Nyota asked. "Is Hikaru depressed?"

"Hardly. I am actually quite impressed by their perceptiveness and foresight in this matter," her boyfriend replied simply. "They have handled this with the utmost maturity and calm. Each one voiced their desires and aspirations openly and honestly before arriving at this decision. Were I a parent to either of them, I would be deeply honored."

Nyota paused, trying not to be annoyed with the Vulcan for being so…Vulcan.

"You do not find this situation…disagreeable?" she asked. "First Lenny and Christine, now Vira. Who's next, Spock? You?"

"They will all be missed," Spock admitted honestly. "Whether we find the situation agreeable or disagreeable is irrelevant. It will not sway them from their course."

"Then how do we live?" Nyota whispered. "How do we weather such change when it comes so suddenly?"

"It is through loss that we often realize the true value of things, Nyota. And when something we love is lost, we must simply do what we can to survive without it," he reassured her, finally turning to look at her. "I understand Vira's absence will cause you grief. I also understand that the last time you grieved so, we made an…erroneous decision. If you have come here for comfort, I can assure you I will not take advantage this time."

Nyota smile, despite her tearing eyes. "Of course not," she chuckled softly. "You are probably the most wondrous person I've ever known."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "And how did you come to this conclusion?"

Nyota laughed. "I've changed my mind back and forth about physical pleasure. I've been emotional, irrational, selfish, and insensitive. For that, I apologize."

"You are human," Spock shrugged. "_And_ a teenager. I once told you to never apologize for that."

Nyota smiled wide, even as tears fell. "My family swept through your house like a desert storm, wrecked a traditional betrothal, embarrassed themselves in front of a Romulan delegation, and yet…you're still here with me," she laughed.

"At the risk of sounding like my lovesick cousin," Spock nodded slightly, "'always.'" He didn't dare call her _ashayam_; the mere word made them both cringe.

"I love you, Spock," Nyota nodded. "I know that now. And what I feel transcends the physical and the emotional, so please don't think this about sex, or even romance. I simply love you. I love you, as I know Jim and Hikaru will always love you. Of all the souls I have ever known, yours is truly the best."

By the look in his eyes, she knew he was deeply touched, as was she.

She stepped forward, "I'm going to go back to Vira and apologize for throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child. But before I go, there's just one thing more I need to say with you. In a time when my people were first raising pyramids along the Nile, husbands and wives kissed with their noses, and called each _himit_ and _sonit_."

"_Himit_ and _sonit?_" Spock blinked.

"Literally, 'brother' and 'sister'," Nyota translated the Ancient Egyptian. "You see, the African tradition of calling one another 'brother' and 'sister' goes back thousands of years, to the very beginnings of our civilizations. In our world, to refer to someone as 'friend' is polite and kind, but to actually call someone family—the most important connection in all the universe—is true love. And after this weekend, with the meeting and inevitable joining of our two families, I think for us these two terms are…quite logical."

Nyota came to him, touching his shoulders and raising up on her toes. She briefly, lightly rubbed her nose against Spock's. Pulling back, she smiled genuinely.

"I love you, _himit_."

Rendered speechless, Spock's face was positively beaming. He stared her, awestruck for a split moment before touching her shoulders, leaning downward, and rubbing his nose against hers, murmuring, "I love you, _sonit_."

Nyota smiled, lightly touching his face with her hand, savoring the tender moment between. Of course, a thoroughly Vulcan moment soon emerged.

"Your logic _is_ quite sound," he assured her suddenly, "especially since it is likely Kamaria and Sinoyal will marry before we do. By then," he glowed brightly, "you and I will already be related—cousins, to be exact. It will be just like in the ancient days!"

Nyota's whole body stiffened.

"Oh," she said tightly, suddenly uncomfortable. "I, uh…I actually hadn't thought of that."

XXX

**Three days later**

"Admit it, Ny," Vira shivered in the Appalachian winter cold. She clutched her standard issue winter coat tightly, obscuring the Buskirk crest on the left breast. "This is your way of getting back at me for leaving next year."

"Oh, quit whining, _bébé_," Christine Chapel cut in, practically leading the four girls through the endlessly thick mountain woods. "A trek under the stars is good for the soul."

"The air is oddly refreshing," Nyota admitted. "So crisp and clean."

"I too find this season rather charming," Number One chimed in. "Though I wish I had waited until spring to shave my head." She was wearing a thick fur cap, while the rest of the girls simply wore toboggans.

Behind them, Commander Christopher Pike talked with the other kids, answering questions about the Academy and serving aboard a starship. Spock and Jim Kirk were his most incessant questioners. Hikaru was more interested in the recent developments in warp tech, while Lenny grumbled that he wanted to be a healer, not a hiker.

"So what's the point of this again?" Vira asked. "Are we supposed to be, like, looking for something?"

"The _point_," Christine snickered, "is to be uncomfortable, and to stay calm and rational despite the discomfort. Starship, transport, and even luxury liner crew get stranded on planets sometimes. You never know what you'll get when your computer yells, 'Hey, yo! Incoming inhospitable planet!'"

"Makes you almost want to reconsider Starfleet, you know?" Nyota's teeth chattered. "I mean, routine travel to Vulcan was one thing. Sailing out through the black into the unknown, however, is kinda creepy."

"Perhaps at first," Number One assured her, "but like with your ancient sailors of the seas, a time will come when you want nothing more than a tall ship—"

"—and a star to steer her by," Christine chuckled, finishing the quote. "My girl."

"I'm glad you all find this amusing," Vira scowled, "but I get the point now and I want to go home. A long, hot uninterrupted bath sounds seriously awesome right now."

"Not to mention a good old-fashioned cup of joe," Christine nodded.

"And waffles!" Nyota sighed. "Hot, buttery waffles dripping with syrup."

"You will have all these things," Number One assured them, "in approximately 18.92 more hours."

"_18.92!_" Vira and Nyota exclaimed.

"What you're feeling right now is nothing," Christine told them grimly. "Wait 'til we're sleeping on the ground tonight…by an honest-to-God _fire_."

"V, I'm really sorry I talked you into this," Nyota apologized. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

"Like I said," the Trill grumbled. "Payback."

It wasn't too bad. They got to roast marshmallows while Pike told stories of Appalachia from before the Europeans ever arrived. When he ran out of tales, Spock took over, regaling a rapt audience with tales of ancient Vulcan wars and love stories. He spoke well into the night.

Morning came, and Pike led the kids back across the mountains toward Stellar Valley. It was a mild day this time; the bitter wind didn't blow, the sun came out, and much of the snow melted. By the time the kids got back to school, their boots were covered in slush.

The kids got to their rooms and showered. But when they entered the mess hall for dinner, the boys got a huge surprise.

An emotionless, no-nonsense computer voice suddenly floated out to them over the intercom.

"_Captain James Kirk, Commander Spock, Lieutenant Commander Sulu, and Lieutenant McCoy report to the _USS Serengeti_ for orders_."

All the chatter in the mess hall stopped as the kids turned to look at them. All but Spock looked alarmed, as though their death sentences had been announced.

"WTF?" Jim blinked. "We're not due for the simulation until—"

"_Repeat:_ _Captain James Kirk, Commander Spock, Lieutenant Commander Sulu, and Lieutenant McCoy report to the _USS Serengeti_ for orders immediately_."

"I suppose the logical course would be to report to the Serengeti for orders at once," the Vulcan murmured lightly. "The pre-simulation is about to begin."

"_Pre_-simulation?" Jim sputtered. "What the hell, Spock?"

"Part of the simulation is to give the participants a real-life experience on a starship, Jim," Spock said simply, rising from his seat. His "crewmates" followed him out as he continued to explain. "Being called to duty without warning for a life-and-death scenario is perhaps the most crucial aspect of the experience."

Hikaru was appalled. "And you were going to tell us this _when?_"

"The surprise is part of the simulation, Hikaru," Spock replied hastily, and there was a subtle sarcastic note in his voice. "The universe doesn't exactly plan for emergencies. And officer never knows when he might be called to war. But I will tell you this: we are currently being timed and tracked by the computer to see if we drag our feet or if we answer the duty summons promptly. The faculty and visiting staff will definitely be factoring our time into our final grade."

_Everyone_ suddenly started walking faster.

"So how does the rest of this work, Spock?" Lenny asked. "What else is the computer tracking about us? What are supposed to do before the battle begins?"

"Students are summoned by their official designations for orders," the Vulcan explained quickly. "After receiving said orders, they board the ship and travel with the fleet to intercept the Klingons. It takes over a full day to reach the location. This gives students time to adapt to life in space as well as familiarize themselves with a starship setting. We'll be sleeping in officers' quarters tonight, and performing day-to-day actions tomorrow, such as diagnostics, battle drills, maintenance and repair, in the case of you, Lenny, treating random crew ailments."

By the time they reached holodeck thirteen, the boys were in a far better, much more excited mood. This "pre-simulation" was starting to sound a like brilliant idea.

"Once we enter, we cannot leave, barring unusual circumstances," Spock informed them. "In the meantime, the holodeck will provide real food, clothing, and water for bathing. "When the actual battle begins, the headmistress, Commander Pike, Professors Mitiku and Montevido, and an associate director of Starfleet Academy Admissions will be observing us from a separate location. _Watch what you say_," Spock warned, "and remember to take the simulation seriously."

The doors opened, showing the dark brown carpets and copper-tinted consoles of the _Serengeti_ bridge. Jim gasped, slowly entering first. His friends followed him in, and when the doors slid closed behind them, they could distinctly hear them lock.

"So," Hikaru muttered, "it has begun."


	27. Chapter 27

**Serengeti Pt. 1**

_(A/N: After this, there's one more chapter and an epilogue. Thanks so much, guys! You have no idea how much fun this has been for me! Remember: comment, comment, comment!)_

**

* * *

**

**Holodeck Thirteen, 19:47 h**

Spock walked over to the Chief Science Officer's station and accessed the ship's mission files.

"Starfleet orders us to the Kinoran System to intercept the Klingon fleet," he announced calmly. "We will be outnumbered approximately three to one, but we must engage the enemy nevertheless, until reinforcements arrive. Our quarters are located on Deck Seven Section C3, and Gamma Shift begins…now."

Several holograms suddenly appeared on the bridge, naturally going about their business as though they'd been there the whole time. Jim gawked at them for a moment, caught off guard and unsure how to proceed.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "We are relieved for the night, _Captain_," he explained softly. He gestured towards the turbolift. "After you."

The boys rode in silence. The humans were clearly awestruck to the point of numbness; their hearts were no longer beating rapidly and their breathing was slow and even. Each one dutifully went to his quarters, knowing they needed to get some rest while they still could.

The officers' quarters were spacious, complete with a replicator and a private bath. The carpet was smooth and of a dusky shade, while the large bed was draped in a burnt sienna cover. The curtains which hid the stairs were of a rich bronze material that shimmered lightly in the dim light of the room. There was a small closet filled with the appropriate simulation uniforms. To the human boys' disappointment, they were simply jumpsuits the color of the boys' respective houses. To Spock, of course, it made sense.

Around 2200 hours, after they'd all showered and had a hot meal, the boys turned in for the night.

**02:32 h**

"_Lt. Commander Sulu, please report to Main Engineering. We are experiencing difficulties with the plasma relays_."

Hikaru's eyes slowly opened; groggily he stared at the ceiling and fleetingly wondered where the hell he was. He looked around the unfamiliar room, listened to the subtle hum of a distant engine, and caught a glimpse of endless stars and black out his window.

Then he remembered.

"_Commander, respond_."

"Hika—I mean, _Sulu_ here," Hikaru mumbled finally. "I'm on way."

He yawned as he unwilling rolled out of his very comfortable bed, pulled on his dark blue jumpsuit and headed out to the turbolift.

"Main Engineering," he grumbled to the computer, and waited several seconds before finally arriving.

He entered a large, dimly lit room filled with holographic workers; most ignored him but a couple strode right up to him. They sounded a lot like the computers they were, speaking in neutral tones, and blinking almost in unison.

"There seems to be misaligned conduit," one reported. "It's causing leakage and deterioration in Section 22 which will impact the warp core's functioning. We are running diagnostics to track it down now."

"Have you tried shutting down that section altogether and rerouting the plasma flow?" Hikaru yawned, trying not to sound annoyed. This was practically Engineering 101 and he really hated to think he'd been dragged out of bed at this hour for an easily remedied problem.

_Besides, I'm a pilot, not an engineer_. Scotty would have knocked this one out minutes ago over the intercom.

The other hologram shook its head. "Shutting down that entire section would require reducing speed; it will keep us from reaching our destination on time. Rerouting plasma flow would require using backup sections, which we may require during the actual engagement."

_That_ woke Hikaru up; he quickly realized this wasn't going to be a simple simulation. Spock had programmed realistic hiccups and riddles into the plot, and now Hikaru was going to have to make a decision so important it could change the course of the entire simulation.

"We _cannot_ slow down, Ensign!" he exclaimed. "I want options and I need to hear them now. How much longer on that diagnostic?"

"About another hour, sir. Section 22 is our largest connection of conduits; it is roughly the size of four other sections. We only have two backup sections; we shut 22 down and we still won't make the interception."

_Damn you, Spock!_

"And will we be able to maintain current speed with when our warp core is experiencing a rapidly dwindling supply of plasma? I seriously think not!" Hikaru snapped, growing impatient as he went to the main console to check the engines' status. Did officers really have to deal with this sort of incompetence? If so, how the hell were wars won?

"A diagnostic should've been run _before_ the _Serengeti_ left spacedock, goddamn it! Ensign, open up all backup sections and begin rerouting the plasma flow. Jim might be pissed off, but oh-fucking-well. Take a team into Section 22, track down, and align that conduit manually."

"Do we shut it down, sir?"

"Absolutely not! And I know what you're going to say next, Ensign!" Hikaru snarled. "You're going to inform me about the hazards of handling warp plasma while a conduit intersection is in full-flow mode. Well, don't bother! I've some got news for you too, asshole: there are about _ninety_ Klingon birds-of-prey on their way to Kinoran right now _who don't care_ about our engine problems! Now get moving! Sulu to Captain Kirk," Hikaru barked into his console, "we may have a bit of a situation down here. Report to Main Engineering _ASAP._"

**03:46 h**

"_Commander Spock please report to Laboratory 3_."

The Vulcan slowly opened his eyes and briefly pondered the shade of his ceiling. Indeed, earth tones were far more soothing than Starfleet's standard issue of blues and grays.

When he had sufficiently meditated on this notion, Spock finally answered the hail.

"You're calling to tell me Experiment 26894 has escaped," he said, speaking in a tone almost as cool and as neutral the computer itself.

"_Yes, Commander. We are unfamiliar with the specimen you brought on board and are unsure how to—_"

"Simply evacuate the lab and then flood it with diaxillide gas, Ensign."

"_Understood, sir. Sorry to bother you_."

"Apology accepted. Suspend all other experiments until further notice," the Vulcan replied, before calmly rolling over and going back to sleep.

**04:53 h**

"_Dr. McCoy, please report to Sick Bay. Medical emergency_."

Lenny awoke with a loud snort. He rolled over, slowly going back to sleep. He'd had this dream a thousand times and wasn't about to—

"_Dr. McCoy, repeat: Medical emergency!_"

He sat up suddenly, groggy and disoriented. The room seemed to be spinning, and he trouble focusing his eyes.

Good God, man, he blinked. I think I might actually be spacesick!

He stumbled out of bed, mumbling, "McCoy here; on my way," and fumbled in the dark for his uniform. He yawned all the way to the turbolift where he briefly forget where he was going.

"_Dr. McCoy!_"

"Oh, yeah!" Lenny shook his head. "Sick Bay, computer. Sick Bay!"

He arrived in time to see a stream of engineers being brought in, some with plasma burns, while others were suffering side effects from the fumes. The sight of scorched flesh and puking holograms sobered him up at once.

"_Goddamn!_" he yelled without thinking, turning a few heads. "What the hell happened?" he demanded, going over to the most severe patient and starting the diagnostic chamber. "Did we go to war while I was asleep? Did Jim forget to tell me?"

"Accident in Engineering," a nurse explained hastily. "A plasma conduit burst during a corrective procedure."

"Any casualties?"

"No, sir."

"Well, that's good," Lenny murmured, going over the patient's readout. "Thirty cc's dermaethylmide for this one," he heard himself announced, "and then start him on a level three dermal regeneration cycle." When the nurse acknowledged with a nod, he turned around to face his other patients.

"May have your attention, please?" Lenny called to them, clapping his hands together. "Anyone who feels the uncontrollable need to blow chunks all over my brand new carpet needs to haul ass that-a-ways," he pointed toward the private wards. "Pick a bed, grab a pan, hunker down, and pray for daylight! Nurses! I'm going to need to an ice cold round of nausea inhibitors, specifically twenty cc's citrogluconate on the rocks for these fine folks, hear me? All righty, then; that's settled.

"Now for you poor bastards who've been deep fried Southern style," he gestured to the main ward, "snag a bed right here, wait for your rounds of dermaethylmide, and try not bleed all over my new linens.

"They're Egyptian cotton, you know."

**08:00 h**

The "officers" met in the mess hall for breakfast, or in the case of the humans, coffee. Spock, properly armed with a civilized cup of morning tea, tranquilly looked his friends over, noting their disheveled hair and uniforms, bleary eyes, and brutally foul breath. Lenny in particular smelled like vomit and seemed to blanch at the mere sight of food.

Around them, holograms blissfully milled, talking to each other and enjoying their meals. How odd that the computer was having more fun than the people.

_I could write a whole paper on that_, the Vulcan mused.

"So," Kirk yawned loudly, rubbing his eyes for the seventh time in almost as many minutes, "how did everyone sleep?"

Unable to lie, Spock calmly replied, "Like a baby."

**19:32 h**

"Spock, you see them yet?"

"Eighty-nine birds-of-prey, right on schedule," the Vulcan nodded, before rising and looking away from his console. "They will be in weapons range in thirty seconds, Captain."

"Hail them, Commander," Jim said grimly.

"Frequencies open, Captain."

"General Shi'Vang," Jim called loudly, putting as much authority as he could into his voice, "your presence in this system is an act of aggression against the Federation. Please withdraw your fleet and await appropriate diplomatic procedure."

The Klingon flagship promptly responded.

The photon torpedo hit the _Serengeti_ which such force the entire bridge crew went sailing out of their seats.

Spock was the first to get back on his feet and to his station, followed by Hikaru, then Lenny.

"Helm," Jim growled, slowly dragging himself back into the Captain's chair, "give that bastard a dose of his own medicine. Full spread."

"Captain," Lenny reported from Ops, "we've lost the communication's array, which means no targeting scanners. But our ships have already started firing at will."

"Shields down to 78.63%, Captain," Spock reported.

"_In one blast?_" Jim cried. "Reroute all power from unnecessary systems to the shields. Helm, give me evasive pattern theta gamma 6."

"I _know_ you meant to say 'pattern omega,'" came the smart reply.

"Seriously, man," Jim blinked, "I…I _will_ hurt you. I have absolutely no problem putting a phaser blast through your skull before the Klingons get."

"Fine," Hikaru sighed loudly. "Loser's tactic it is, then. And by the way, Klingons use disrupters, not phasers."

"_Hikaru!_"

The second blast hit, but this time, the bridge crew managed to stay put.

"Captain," Lenny reported, "they knocked out navigation." He turned to face Jim. "We're flying blind."

"The fuck you say!" Hikaru snorted. "I _got_ this!" He accessed the viewscreen, displaying a mess of firing ships and attack squadrons swooping and diving in space. For a split second, the bridge crew stopped and gawked at the bald-faced Armageddon exploding beyond their bow.

"How do you expect to fly this thing _without_ navigation?" Lenny demanded.

"Logic would suggest a more stationary approach," Spock added calmly.

"It's called _eyesight_, children," Hikaru called over his shoulder. "A bit old school, but nonetheless effective."

"This is a _starship_, not a shuttlecraft!" Lenny protested. "You can't maneuver this thing as easily as—"

Hikaru's hard right which smoothly bypassed a series of torpedoes cut him off. The Serengeti slipped through the first line of the Klingon fleet, sailing with ease.

"Oh, yeah," Hikaru smirked. "_I got this_."

"Unfortunately," Spock pointed out calmly, "we're now surrounded by the enemy's ships."

"But the more they shoot at us," Jim nodded, catching on to Hikaru's strategy, "the more they risk shooting at each other. Keep dodging, Karu. Kirk to Engineering: I need my targeting scanners back online _yesterday!_"

"_Acknowledged_."

"Commander," Kirk said suddenly, "when our scanners come back online, vent excess plasma into the center of the enemy fleet. Lenny, you'll fire three class 2 torpedoes and ignite the plasma cloud. Helm, be prepared to get us out of dodge, like, _uber_-haste and rejoin our fleet."

"Aye, Captain," Spock and Hikaru chorused.

"_Engineering to Captain Kirk: scanners back online_."

"Now!" Jim yelled.

Spock vented the plasma. Lenny fired. Before the torpedoes hit, Hikaru was already moving. The resulting massive blast destroyed two birds-of-prey and knocked seventeen clear out of formation. Twelve of those crashed into other ships, kicking the destruction tally up to twenty-six.

"_Yes!_" Jim exclaimed, slapping the right arm of his chair.

Unfortunately, their tactic brought them to the attention of the flagship. It broke off formation to come after them.

"We're getting a hail from, Shi'Vang, Captain," Spock reported. "Audio only."

"Let it through. Helm, stay sharp."

A guttural alien growl came over the intercom, its angry swagger obvious in every syllable. Before Spock could translate, a long string of Japanese obscenities poured indignantly from Hikaru's mouth, silencing the Klingon general.

"Hikaru, what the hell was that?" Jim demanded.

The helmsman merely shrugged. "I thought we were playing the 'cuss-each-other-out-in-a-languages-we-don't-know' game." He looked at Jim. "I told you I can drive and talk smack."

"I would have _translated_, helmsman," Spock said, the faintest hint of irritation gracing his voice. "The general was saying—"

A torpedo blast interrupted him. It hit the _Serengeti_, causing Spock's console to explode in an elaborate light show. Taking his cue, Spock dutifully dropped to the floor and lay on his back.

"_Commander Spock is down_," the computer announced.

Jim blinked, flabbergasted. "Uh…WTF?"

"He's dead, Jim," Lenny sighed wearily. "He can't participate in the simulation any further. Shields down to 42%, by the way."

Jim actually tore at his own hair. "_Motherf_—"

A second blast knocked out Lenny's console. The Southerner rolled his eyes, slipped out of his chair, and lay on his back.

"Lieutenant McCoy is down," the computer announced.

"_What the_ _fuck?_" Jim roared.

"I'm _dead_, Jim," Lenny answered irritably. "Shields are probably buckling right about."

"Karu, please give me some good news."

"Shields _are_ down and we could be boarded any second," Hikaru reported casually. "Of course, most of our crew _is_ dead, and the ship technically _is_ falling apart so I'm thinking instead wasting time beaming all the way over here to kick the shit of us, Shi'Vang is probably just going to—"

A final blast interrupted Hikaru. Everything went black and silent for a few seconds. When the lights came on, the four boys were alone on an empty holodeck.

Calmly, Spock to his feet, delicately brushing himself off as he neutrally inquired, "Computer, what was our time?"

"Excluding the pre-simulation, your team lasted 15.86 minutes."

"Fifteen…." Jim trailed off in disbelief. "That's it? That's all? I've jerked myself off for longer than _that!"_

"And now," Spock raised a prim eyebrow, "our headmistress and her co-observers know about it."

"Oh," Jim cringed, blanching. "I forgot about them."

"Y'all sure do look like hell," Christine Chapel drawled, shaking her head.

After exiting holodeck thirteen, the boys turned to see Buskirk's finest, decked out in matching purple uniforms. Their skirts hung down to mid-thigh, and their black boots were knee-high. Nyota Uhura had put her purple and black cornrows back in, while, Vira Zwan had bundled her hair up for the first time ever. Number One, tall, bald and beautiful, had daintily painted swirling designs onto her scalp and forehead with dark purple ink.

"Wait 'til it's you," Jim scowled. "We lasted fifteen minutes. Let's see how _you_ do."

"Actually, Jim, we lasted 15.86 minutes," Spock coolly corrected him.

"Doesn't explain the look," Vira shook her head. "Which _screams_ 'mental asylum escapee' by the way."

"We didn't get a whole lotta sleep in there," Lenny yawned.

"We'd tell you about it," Hikaru snorted, "but we'd rather just sit back and see how you do."

"So, see you tomorrow," Jim challenged, before walking off.

Spock gave Nyota a polite nod. "Until tomorrow, _sonit_."

Nyota nodded back. "Tomorrow, _himit_."

They touched noses briefly before parting ways.

The holodeck reset itself, and the doors reopened, revealing the polished, unblemished bridge of the _Serengeti_.

"Look alive, girls," Christine nodded grimly. "And stay sharp."

Nyota blinked. "That's _my_ line!"


	28. Chapter 28

**Serengeti Pt. 2**

_(A/N: If you are not familiar with the "The Warrior Princess" from the_ Xena _soundtrack, please stop, go to YouTube [this chapter on LJ has the exact link], and listen to it now. It'll make the battle scene a little more hilarious. Again, thank you all.)_

* * *

Nyota Uhura led the girls into holodeck thirteen, ignoring the ominous number and figuring Spock had chosen it on immediately took the Captain's chair and asked the computer for orders.

"USS Serengeti _is ordered to lead the Eighth Fleet to the Kinoran System to intercept Klingon fleet and engage until reinforcements arrive_," the computer relayed.

"Estimated time to Kinoran?" Nyota asked.

"_At current speed, approximately 23.42 hours_."

"Estimated time for reinforcements to join us at Kinoran?"

"_Approximately 34.85 hours_," the computer replied.

"We're looking at an almost 12-hour differential," Nyota sighed. She looked at her crew. "By now, Starfleet is aware of that differential; it was probably taken into account when they decided on a course of action." She skimmed the rest of the orders. "We'll be outnumbered approximately three to one." Pause. "What do we know about Kinoran?"

"It's a binary system," Number One answered. "Pre-warp civilization on the third planet and considered politically neutral by the intergalactic community."

Nyota mulled this over for a moment. "Computer, how far to the Dymian System?"

"_At current speed, approximately 17.27 hours_."

"And is the Dymian System en route to Kinoran?" Nyota inquired further.

"Affirmative."

Nyota grinned broadly.

"What is it?" Christine asked, confused. "Why the interest in Dymian?"

"I did a little research about the star systems along the way to Kinoran," Vira answered. "The Dymians are a warp-capable species who also happen to be ancestral enemies of the Klingons."

"Computer," Nyota smiled brightly, "begin ship-wide and ship-to-ship. This is Captain Uhura of the _Serengeti_ speaking. I am now taking command of the fleet; note the time in your logs. Starfleet has ordered us to Kinoran, but unfortunately our reinforcements won't reach us in time. Therefore, we will head to the Dymian System and set up a standard blockade along their outer border. I intend to keep as many people alive out here as possible. Uhura out."

Several holograms suddenly appeared, going about their business.

"Ah," Nyota smiled. "Gamma shift. That means bedtime for us, ladies."

They hopped onto the turbolift and headed for their quarters. As they rode, Nyota murmured to the girls, "Spock no doubt programmed several 'distractions' so be suspicious of everything. The boys mentioned not getting any rest and I'm not going into battle with Klingons on only two or three hours of sleep."

Vira nodded, saying, "I've already suspended all scientific experiments aboard the ship. If I know Spock, they'd be one of the delay tactics."

Nyota sighed wearily. "I'm going to send a communiqué to the other Captains suggesting they do the same. Uhura to Engineering," she called suddenly.

"_Engineering here, Captain_."

"Begin ship-wide diagnostics of all systems, and have crews on standby at all times for any immediate repairs. Shut down all inessential systems and conserve energy as much as possible."

"_Acknowledged_."

"If I know Spock," she chuckled, "_that_ would definitely be a trap."

"You disobeyed a direct order," Number One pointed out. "You've altered the mission. That could cause a problem with some of the other captains."

"True," Christine chimed in, "but Ny knows she can't get 'em all. We're just trying to cut _down_ on the drama, not avoid it altogether. Speaking of which, I think we should stop all outgoing subspace messages—for security reasons, of course."

"Done," Nyota nodded. "Great ideas, girls!"

**Holodeck Thirteen, 22:42 h**

_Captain's Log_

_I have followed my officers' advice and initiated a series of security protocols. We have stopped all outgoing messages. I have contacted the other captains in a brief holo-conference where I explain some—not all—aspects of my plan and my logic. Apparently, the decision to not fly all the way out to nowhere has actually boosted morale rather than cause apprehension._

_Still, I'm wary._

_I may have knocked out the usual suspect traps and pitfalls, but Spock isn't an idiot. Sooner, or later, I know something's going to happen._

_In the meantime, I've asked the Chief Medical Officer to carefully everyone's medical files and compile any missing data by any means necessary._

**01:32 h**

"_Lt. Commander Chapel, please report to the mess hall_."

Christine's eyes opened quickly, and she sat up at once.

_I knew it! That green-blooded hobgoblin just _had_ to put in backup twists, now didn't he?_

"Chapel, here. What is the emergency?"

"_The mess hall has been overrun, Commander. Apparently we have tribbles in the storerooms with the non-replicated food supplies_."

Christine smiled broadly. _Tribbles? Really, Spock—_tribbles? _That was the best Plan B you could come up with?_

"Use the transporter to target all tribble life signs and beam them into isolation," Christine ordered. "Use an empty lab and do not—under _any_ circumstances—feed those little bastards."

"_Can't we just beam them into space, Commander?_"

Christine actually laughed aloud. "Now, now, _bébé_," she replied patiently. "I understand they can be bothersome, but there will be no murdering tribbles today, _comprends?_ You have your orders; Chapel out."

**02:57 h**

"_Commander Zwan, please report to Sick Bay. We have a medical situation requiring your expertise_."

Vira was up and out of bed in a flash. Excited, she'd donned scrubs instead of her uniform, more than eager to operate on a willing patient. "Sick Bay, I'm on my way! Zwan out!" she chirped, before leaving her room and hopping onto the turbolift.

When she arrived at Sick Bay, however, the room was empty and ghostly quiet. Most of the wards were dark and empty, and the main ward was using minimal lighting.

The Trill blinked, too baffled to be disappointed yet.

"Um…Sick Bay? I'm, like, here!"

"Vira."

Zwan spun to face the Chief Medical Officer. He was a tall, handsome Trill man whose eyes betrayed a soul much older than his face. His hair was very dark, his skin lightly golden, and he vaguely reminded her of someone….

"Yes, Dr…Dr…?" Vira floundered.

"Roisiyan," he helped her out. His voice was very warm and friendly. "Kelmar Roisiyan, of Teyos Province."

"Vira Zwan," she nodded. "At your service."

"Sorry to wake you, but I was reviewing your file," he explained, leading her over to a seated area where he ordered her a cup of iced red leaf tea from the replicator. It was sweet in exactly the way she liked. "I understand xenobiology is your specialty."

"It is…," she trailed warily, unsure of what was going on here. He was being awfully familiar with her, smiling openly and, well…quite frankly…appreciating her too much. She caught him looking over her body every so often and…how the hell had he known about her taste in tea?

"Unfortunately, most of my knowledge of anatomy is limited to Federation citizens," he said coolly, lounging casually in the chair opposite hers and looking her over again. "Some of our crew members come from non-Federation planets and I need some help going over a few blood screenings."

The Trill blinked, lost. "Blood screenings?"

"The Captain ordered an inspection of crew medical files," Roisiyan shrugged easily. "A few crewmembers hadn't submitted to a blood test so I did rounds earlier tonight. The boy in the mess hall was particularly surly; then again, he _was_ dealing with an army of tribbles." Roisiyan laughed. "He had such a severe tribble-phobia I had to distract him to get his blood."

"Is that ethical?"

"Totally," he waved dismissively. "You know, for a group of people willing to sail through endless stars, meet hostile aliens, and even die in combat just to get the job done, Starfleet officers are notoriously afraid of the doctor." He smiled and shrugged. "Thus we are forced to resort to little tricks and tactics just to get _our_ job done."

"Hm," Vira snorted. "That sucks."

"That it does," he chuckled. "So are you game?"

"I thought you said there was a medical emergency," she stated bluntly. "I came down here ready to slice into someone."

"No, I said there was a medical _situation_, Vira," Roisiyan smirked. "I'm really sorry to bother you at this hour, but I don't recognize some of these blood samples and I can't go to the Captain tomorrow with a bunch of 'I don't knows'—they tend to frown on that."

"So…where are the samples?" Vira looked around her.

"Deck 12, Section 8-C," he smiled.

Vira raised an eyebrow. "All the labs are on Deck 14," she calculated. "Sick Bay is here, on Deck 15, so that means the samples are in…."

"My quarters, of course," Roisiyan chuckled lightly. "I have a bottle of Begosian wine—the 2189. _Very_ good year, by the way." He leaned forward suddenly, all smiles and warmth. "I think it would be a fun way to spend the night, don't you?"

_Sexual harassment_.*

Vira's jaw dropped. That was the twist! Many Starfleet officers reported sexual harassment daily. The last time she'd read an article on the subject, it stated that 32% of all women who entered Starfleet experienced some sort sexual harassment from fellow officers. Sociologists estimated about 1.2 million cases went unreported every Earth year.

_Spock! You sly, young, overly attentive devil!_

"Doctor," she said coldly, "forward your data to me. I'll review it over breakfast."

"Come on, Vira," he rolled his eyes. "Help a fellow Trill out. I can't let the Captain down the firs time she gives me an order. Makes us look bad. You don't want us to look bad in front our captain now, do you, Vira?"

"First of all," Vira raised an eyebrow, "I'm not Vira—not to you. To you, I'm _Commander Zwan_. I'm also the one who'll be reporting this little tea party to Starfleet Command, and after I get done kicking Klingon ass, I'm going to see to it that you spend the rest of your career stationed at an all-male Vulcan monastery on their most _remote_ colony in the galaxy."

She rose to her feet, delighting in the look of horror spread across his face. "Good night, _Doctor_."

**04:02 h**

"_Lieutenant Number One, please report to the brig_."

Number One slowly woke. Groggily, she sat up and glanced at the time on her replicator.

_The Vulcan is a sadist_.

"Number One here," she yawned. "What's your emergency?"

"_We've caught a saboteur, Lieutenant. He was trying to disable our shield generators_."

"That's very serious," the Illyrian raised an eyebrow. "Is he one of our crewmembers?"

"_He works in the mess hall, Lieutenant. He claims to be human—Harrison Daly, to be exact—but when Dr. Roisiyan took his blood he found Klingon DNA. After the saboteur beamed the tribbles into isolation, he tried to access the shields from the transporter room_."

"Where he tripped my security system," Number One said smugly.

"_Yes, Lieutenant_."

"Place him in a soundproof cell," Number One sighed. "Then beam all the tribbles into it with him."

"_Sir?!?!?_"

"And don't forget to provide the tribbles with a little something to snack on while you're at it."

"_But, sir—_"

"You have your orders," she yawned, lying back down and pulling the covers back over her shoulders. "Number One out."

**08:00 h**

"Roisiyan may have saved the day," Vira snorted, "but just to avoid getting exiled." She slathered her toasted with butter. "Asshole."

"I can't believe you're mad a hot, young doctor hit on you instead of giving you a body to chop up," Christine blinked.

"I've got my standards," the Trill sniffed. "But what about Miss Number One over here? What's with the cruel and unusual punishment?"

The Illyrian sipped her tea unfazed. "The Klingon was trying to destabilize our shields and leave us vulnerable to attack. Many innocents would have died. If you ask me, I think the tribbles shorter end of the stick."

"What I don't get," Nyota snickered, "is why nobody called me. I feel bad you guys didn't get a full night's sleep."

"Vira was up the longest," Christine snorted.

"I was lured to Sick Bay under false pretenses!" the Trill objected. "That pedophile wanted to get me drunk, remember?"

"As far as he's concerned, you're not sixteen," Nyota reminded her roommate. "To them," she gestured towards the holograms, "we're adults and we're in charge."

"And that's another thing," Vira snapped. "Did Spock seriously think I'd be swayed into boning an _underling?_ What the hell does that say about me?"

"These problems were randomized," Number One posited. "Any of us—except the Captain—could've been summoned by the doctor."

"In the meantime," Nyota announced, "I got some good news. The Dymian War Council is outraged that Klingons are making inroads into politically neutral space. Their Kithlaxian Guard—a twenty-ship fleet—will rendezvous with us at their outer border."

"We're still outnumbered, but as not as much as before," Christine pondered. "And with the 12-hour differential removed, our reinforcements have a better chance of meeting us during the engagement, rather than hours after the Klingons have mowed through."

"I doubt it," Nyota said wryly. "The computer has taken the changes into account. I'm sure Spock has something in store for us. I bet this afternoon I'll get a message about 'delays' and 'engine failures.' Even the Dymians may back out once they see the birds-of-prey."

"Well, I'm going to be optimistic," Christine said stubbornly. "All we have to do is last longer than sixteen minutes and Jim Kirk will never be able to look us in the eye again."

* * *

…**12 hours later, in the observation lounge…**

Headmistress Beulah Coraline Jones sat with her cohorts while the young Vulcan nervously stood apart (and yes, she could tell he was nervous). The visiting staff from the Academy as well as the faculty from Stellar Valley were highly impressed with his programming skills and the realism of the simulation.

"This is far superior to the Kobayashi-Maru," Commander Pike gasped. "The detail is exquisite. I noted the times when the boys' and girls' sleep was interrupted—very realistic."

"The formation of the Klingon fleet in the last battle was very well done," Professor Mitiku commended Spock. "Your accuracy is astounding."

"I am honored, Professor," he mumbled, looking away to hide his blush. His heart thudded mercilessly in his side as he watched Nyota and her girls rule their bridge with a confidence Jim hadn't had.

"The profiling is also well done," Miz Beulah added calmly. "The computer acknowledged that females were on board and took their gender into account when creating problems."

"Yes…when the technical problems were headed off," Professor Montevido gasped, "the computer switched to psychosocial ones. _Brava_, Spock!"

"I am honored," came the meek reply.

"No, no," Pike shook his head, never wavering from the giant screen which allowed them to watch the whole battle, "_we're_ honored. You're going to do great things in Starfleet, son."

Again, the young Vulcan blushed.

"Here's what I don't understand," Miz Beulah blinked. "Nyota didn't go to the Kinoran System. Why isn't she paying a price?"

Spock opened his mouth to answer, but Mitiku cut him off. "In a way, she has. She's forced the Klingons into a less than favorable situation, so a saboteur manifested on board her ship. It's almost as though she's gotten the computer worried."

The phrasing was both fallacious and alarming. Spock had tried to cover every outcome; had Nyota actually found a way to beat his test? Here? Now? In front of this committee? She couldn't just flunk like a generous girlfriend instead of making his programming look like bad?

Spock went from flushing to going pale. Of _course_ she was going to find a way. All the studying, all the research, all the training…had she been holding out on him this whole time?

* * *

…**meanwhile, back on Holodeck Thirteen…**

"Eighty-three birds-of-prey right on time, Captain," Vira reported grimly.

"Eighty-three?" Nyota looked at her. "They're should be at least eighty-nine."

"They were," Vira nodded, "but forcing the Klingons to travel through Kinoran and three other systems alarmed several other planets. Transmissions indicate the Silassians opened fire and knocked out two ships. The Breshtari destroyed another four. And seven of the ships approaching us now have extensive damage to their hulls—they're the ones lagging in the back."

"Likes gazelles on broken knees," Nyota murmured.

"I'm getting a hail from General Shi'Vang, Captain," Vira reported. "Audio only."

"Patch it through, Commander."

"_Who is this cowardly captain hiding behind the borders of others?_" came the low guttural voice of the General. "_We should have met at Kinoran_."

"_The enemy of my enemy is my best friend_," Nyota calmly replied, ignoring the shiver his voice sent up her spine while congratulating her impeccable Klingon.

"_What?_" Shi'Vang barked. "_A female? A soft, pliant human female? I should have known! Only a woman would use such trickery to make others die for her!_"

"_The warriors who faced you did so of their own will, and so shall the Dymians. Is my lord too afraid to face a woman in battle?_"

"_Who is this woman I speak to? Tell me the name to inscribe on your grave_."

"_Captain Nyota Uhura_," Nyota replied coolly, "_of the_ Serengeti._ You must be the great Shi'Vang_."

"_Indeed, so I am_."

"_It will be an honor to feel your warm blood on my hands_," Nyota told him honestly. "_Why waste torpedoes? Come aboard my ship with your best and face me yourself…if you dare_."

Shi'Vang uttered a long string of curses, to which Nyota bravely didn't flinch.

Christine looked appalled. "He bites his mother with that mouth?"

"_I will see you soon, Shi'Vang_," Nyota said finally. "_Uhura out_." She rose from her seat and strolled to the center of her bridge. "Go to red alert. Put the Dymian border onscreen. Helm, charge phasers and torpedoes. Lieutenant, target their flagship's bridge and don't stop firing 'til their shields buckle. Commander, send a fleet-wide broadcast to let everyone know Shi'Vang is _mine_. Let's look alive people!"

Two minutes later, the Klingon fleet approached and the battle was joined. The Dymians charged first, followed by Federation attack fighters. Nyota calmly waited for Shi'Vang to come to her. When he was in weapons' range, Christine and Number One started firing until his starboard shields fell.

"His shields are down, Captain," Number One reported.

"All right, girls. Here's our moment. Remember: if we cut off the head, the arms and legs are useless. Computer," Nyota called, raising her hand, "Klingon _bat'leth_, warrior's configuration." A polished sword appeared in her hand and clutched the leather handle firmly.

"Computer," Vira called, "Klingon _mek'leth_, customized configuration, authorization Vira zeta-1." A lethal-looking silvery blade materialized upon her console and she picked it up almost eagerly.

"Computer," Number One called, "Illyrian spear, double-bladed." A short silver staff engraved in Illyrian appeared on her console; both ends were pointed and sharp.

"Computer," Christine called finally, "gimme an Appalachian fast-action 64XR, double-barreled, blaster not phaser, and don't be stingy with the ammo." Her ideal blaster rifle materialized on her console, along with several rechargers. "Now that's what I'm talking about," she grinned, rising to her feet and gripping her gun.

"Seriously, Christine?" Nyota sighed. "A rifle?"

"Why not?" the Louisianan raised her eyebrow. "After all," she cocked her rifle, "today's a good day to die."

"Computer," Nyota rolled her eyes, "access 20th century soundtracks. Specify _Xena_, play 'The Warrior Princess,' and loop sound."

Suddenly the bridge of the _Serengeti_ was filled with Bulgarian folk singing accompanied deep, almost guttural strings and horns.

* * *

…**and back in the observation lounge…**

"A soundtrack?" Beulah blinked. "WTF? Is she allowed to do that?"

"Ancient warriors sounded drums and blew horns on battlefields," Commander Pike shrugged. "This isn't all that different. Besides, look at how determined and motivated they are. Not to mention prepared! They studied Klingon language, weapons, intergalactic history, _and_ military strategy—and they're using _it_ all to their advantage!"

Spock twitched. _Oh, Nyota…you just _couldn't_ flunk like everybody else!_

Clearly not. The _Serengeti_ bridge was suddenly boarded by several Klingons, including the tall, fearsome Shi'Vang himself.

The girls didn't wait to be attacked; as soon as the enemy materialized, the ship's weapons switched to automatic and began firing on all enemy targets. The girls themselves pounced on the Klingons, cutting, stabbing, and slicing with unrepressed rage. Christine stood back, accurately hitting each target.

"Yee-haw!" she wailed, clearly enjoying herself.

More Klingons materialized, quickly killing off the holographic crew, but the girls stood their ground. Tiny Nyota bravely went toe-to-toe with Shi'Vang himself, swinging that _bat'leth_ as though she'd been born with one in hand. She parried his thrusts, kicked his face and chest with lightning speed, and even ducked and rolled on the floor to dodge overhead strikes.

After a few minutes, everyone in the observation lounge—Spock included—had their jaws on the floor. The adults were now on the edge of their seats, their drinks forgotten, their commentary and analyses silenced. All eyes were glued to the screen where four young girls deftly held their own against a never-ending supply of Klingons.

The tide changed drastically when Nyota got a lucky swipe on Shi'Vang's left leg, slashing the front of his thigh. When he roared in agony, she uppercut his head with the center of the blade, knocking him off balance. As he stumbled back, bleeding from the leg and mouth, he growled eerily in English, "Do you think you can defeat me, human? Me? Shi'Vang? You're better off surrendering, you miserable, scheming harlot! Stand down, or you will watch your comrades all die slowly."

"Never!" came the defiant reply.

"War is the way of _Klingons_," he jeered. "You could never hope to understand as _we_ understand."

"Then I will speak in a manner we'll _both_ understand, you spineless, impotent _p'tak_," Nyota spat venomously. "_Heh 'CHo'_ _mruak'tar!_"

Miz Beulah gawked. "What the hell did she just say to him?"

"'Death,'" Spock translated breathlessly, "'before dishonor.'"

Before anyone could ask another question, Shi'Vang unwisely launched himself at Nyota. She ducked to the side, burying her blade in his chest.

Shocked, the mighty general fell. When his fellow warriors saw him die, they immediately beamed off the _Serengeti_. Moments later, the Klingon fleet withdrew to the sound of celebratory Xena-like war cries from the girls.

The purple posse had _beaten_ the simulation.**

Mortified, Spock heard his voice as though it were coming from another person. "Oh. Hell. _No_…."

Commander Pike stood up, applauding loudly. He turned to Spock, eyes bright with awe.

"Excellent job, son! Brilliant work! Brilliant fucking work!"

"You can pack your bags this summer," the associate director of Admissions, chuckled. "With a mind, like yours, you're skipping senior year. This fall, you and that Nyota girl get to start at the Academy."

Funny how a few simple words could a make a horrified young man feel instantly better.

**~To be finished in the Epilogue~**

* * *

*I don't think this problem will be gone in 23rd Century. When you're a woman stuck on ship light years from home or any habitable planet, I think you're a prime target.

**They weren't originally supposed to win, but it kinda just happened.


	29. Epilogue

**Epilogue: Beyond the Valley…to Starry Skies**

**Nine years-ish after **_**Serengeti**_**….**

_Captain's Personal Log, stardate 2264.182._

_Nyota Uhura reporting._

_It's June 2__nd__, by old reckoning, not that it means anything out here in the black. At 0800 hours this morning, I assumed command of the_ USS Meroë, _a Serengeti-class ship. She's fresh from the shipyards of the dusky Serengeti, and indeed, she is a glorious beauty. Unlike the ships built at Utopia Planitia, the _Meroë _does not use standard issue blue and gray shades, but the soothing tones of the Sahara desert during the sunset hour._

_I've fallen in love, and I now understand what all those old captains and admirals were talking about. No matter what ships I command in the future, my heart will always be here, aboard the_ Meroë.

_Spock, of course, thinks such feelings are illogical._

_My dear half-human, half-Vulcan fiancé has been condemned to serve as First Officer aboard the Enterprise under Jim Kirk who, if you ask me, is still nowhere near ready to be in charge of real _live_ people. Not with Hikaru "I-compulsively—argue-with-every-order" Sulu at his helm, nor Dr. Lenny "Don't-bother-me-I-didn't-come-here-to-work-today" McCoy running his Sickbay. And don't get me started on Montgomery "Scotty" Scott; the man has a drinking problem—period. No matter what day of the week it was at the Academy, I always knew when Scotty was approaching because I could smell the double-malt Scotch coming a mile a way. Not to question Admiral Pike's usually impeccable judgment or anything, but I just don't see how a ship with _those _guys in charge is going to get any actual work done._

_On the other hand, I hear young Ensign Pavel Chekov is also aboard the Enterprise, so along with Spock, I trust he'll be the voice of reason._

_Not that Kirk is known for listening, or anything._

_Either way, I'm very glad I got to choose my crew members. I'm eager to see what they can do. Christine Chapel, my long-time classmate, gave up becoming a nurse to become a full-fledged doctor, and as soon as she got that MD I snatched her up to be my Chief Medical Officer. Lieutenant Commander Number One, her odd but charming Illyrian counterpart and former roommate, is our Chief Engineer, which doesn't surprise me. Number One has always had a highly mathematical and mechanical mind, as though there's some Vulcan stashed in her ancestry somewhere._

_My helmsman is nineteen-year-old Ensign Sayen Rippling Water. From the ancient Native American Mapuche word for "lovely," Sayen is a more than befitting name. Her hair is blacker than night, her flawless skin darker than copper, and she's a former ballerina. I look forward to seeing her perform for the crew, and I just love that I get to call someone "Ensign Rippling Water."_

_I know; I know…you're wondering, "Who's your First Officer?"_

_As fate would have it, our first mission is travel to Trill and collect her now. I haven't seen in her so long, and I've missed her sorely. But as excited as I am to see her, to serve with her aboard my first starship…I don't really know _whom_ I'm picking up from Trill._

_Up until early this morning, she was Vira Zwan, my dearest friend and former roommate. Now she's not Vira Zwan anymore—she's Vira_ Kho. _And she's not 25 anymore either. As of 0530 hours this morning, she's 284 years old._

_I don't think I'll even recognize her._

_Spock tried to explain joined Trill to me. He quoted some ancient Trill philosophical saying to the effect of, "I am myself, and I am not myself. I am me, I am she, I am he, I am we, and I am they. My mind is many minds, and its multiplicity makes me finally complete."_

_And _no_, I don't get it. Maybe V will explain it better when I see her…or them…or whatever._

_In the meantime, I have to check messages from my family, which I'm dreading like the plague. My mother and my older sister Zuri stopped speaking a year ago when she ran off to study some crazy hippie commune of Vulcans without logic. They reside in some remote colony south of the Forge. My sister says it's all about research, but we know. We may not know his name, but_…we know.

_My younger sister Kamaria, nicknamed "the Orion" by Spock's father Sarek, finally got married to Spock's third cousin Sinoyal six months ago at the Temple of T'Masu on Vulcan. Yes, this means I am now cousins with my fiancé; _no,_ I don't dwell on it. That's what I have everyone else for. Over three hundred friends, relatives, and bigwigs from both the Federation and Romulus attended the wedding,_ and damn near every one of them_ felt the need to point out this nifty little bit of trivia out. Like Spock, they all assure it me it's been perfectly kosher "since the ancient days."_

_Whatever._

_I know you're probably wondering what mere 25-year-old woman is doing commanding a ship. You have to understand, I entered the Academy right before I turned seventeen. You're probably thinking, "So? Getting your own ship at that age is still a huge deal. Most people are in their _thirties_ before they become captains. Why did _you_ get to so soon?"_

_Why? Because I'm Uhura, that's why._

_And I'm out._

After ending her log, Nyota immediately switched over to check her personal mail. She had to do it quickly, like ripping off a bandage or a doing a shot of Romulan ale. The first message was a dry, weary message from her father. He was tired of business and missed her, and hoped she was okay. He also congratulated her on becoming Captain so young.

And then she read her mother's message. Bahati Uhura had transmitted it from Vulcan and it was only three short sentences long.

Nyota's jaw hit the floor as she immediately contacted Spock. Alpha shift had ended aboard the Enterprise hours ago; he would be available. And surely enough, he answered within seconds.

"Greetings, _sonit_," he nodded. "It is agreeable to see you again so soon. It has been 9.25 hours since I last saw your face."

"_Himit_," Nyota gasped, deliberately ignoring his annoying tendency towards numerical exactitude, "The Orion is _pregnant_."

Those dark eyes blinked with Vulcan equivalent of mind-blowing shock. Even through a computer screen, she could tell his whole body was stiffening and tightening against displaying emotion. He paused for a very long moment, no doubt to still his voice and choose his words carefully.

"I suppose…this is a most joyous occasion for Kamaria," he murmured. That infamous eyebrow suddenly arched. "Is it…is the baby…?" he trailed off in deliberate delicacy.

"Sinoyal's?" Nyota nodded. "Oh, yeah, yeah—my mother tested its DNA as soon as they found out. It's definitely his child. I mean, no one lets Kamaria out of their sight _ever_, but still…with her, have to make sure."

"Then I will extend my congrats to the fortunate couple," Spock nodded. "Have you heard from your older sister?"

"Not yet, but I'm sure she's fine," Nyota shrugged. "Zuri wrote an analytical paper on Vulcans without logic two months ago and it's already been published in eighteen journals. She's ready to return to Shi'Kahr, but I think she's trying to convince her lover—you know, the one who supposedly doesn't exist—to move back with her."

Spock somberly shook his head. "He won't rejoin a logical society."

"I guess not," Nyota sighed. "We enter Trill's orbit tomorrow morning. At 0900 I'm beaming down to meet Vira and all her fabulous new selves. What about you guys?"

"We've been assigned to patrol the Neutral Zone," Spock replied. "Jim will receive additional orders once we arrive at the border."

"Romulan duty, huh?" Nyota shook her head. "Tough break. After we pick up V, we're supposed to collect an Ambassador T'Mar from her conference on Risa."

"T'Mar?" Spock blinked. "She's the new Chief Vulcan Liaison to the Romulan Senate—Sinoyal studied under her for three years. Do you know where she's being assigned?"

Nyota tensed. "No," she said grimly, putting two and two together. "_We_ don't receive additional orders until she arrives." She lightly drummed her fingers upon her burnt sienna desk while her mind worked. "You know what, Spock? Call it a hunch, but something tells me you and I are about to see each other again _very_ soon."

_~TBC in __**Uhura, Vol. 1: "I Will Not Mourn"**_

Thanks again for the awesome journey guys! Couldn't have done it without you!

Hope you like what I unveil next!

5


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